


Destinies

by Niamh



Series: Originsverse [8]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-04
Updated: 2013-06-06
Packaged: 2017-11-13 14:09:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 51,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/504331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niamh/pseuds/Niamh





	1. Time is of your own making

  
**_1.  Time is of your own making_**  
  
 ** _Time is of your own making,_**  
 ** _It clock ticks in your head._**  
 ** _The moment you stop thought_**  
 ** _Time too stops dead._**  
 ** _Angelus Silesius_**  
  
 ** _Time will run back and fetch the age of gold_**  
 ** _John Milton, Hymn on Christ’s Nativity, line 135._**  
  
 ** _The time is out of joint: O cursed spite,_**  
 ** _That ever I was born to set it right!_**  
 ** _Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 5_**  
  
  
Kirsten knew he was going to leave, knew it like she knew her own name, or the fact she was a twin. She could hear them fighting. _Again_. Just like the night before, just like every night for the last two weeks. The only bright spot was that they hadn’t already come to blows – but with the anger and hurt pervading the house, it was only a matter of time before one of them hauled off and whacked the other on the head. Or, in her mother’s case, broke her father’s nose. _Again_.  
  
They had lasted a little longer this time around. Long enough for him to stay and see the baby born – unlike with Annie. Although he had come back quickly, once he knew there was a problem.  
  
But still.  
  
He was growling now, and she could feel the heavy tread of his boots across the floor of their bedroom. Her mother’s voice was quiet, though she figured the words she was slinging weren’t good. At least she wasn’t using her fists to make her point.  
  
Kirsten raised her eyes to the ceiling, hugging little William close. He’d been fussing for the last half hour, needing to be fed and she was going to have to interrupt the current argument. William needed to nurse.  
  
Annie was playing quietly, ignoring the loud television, focused on her dolls. Or so Kirsten thought, until her sister started speaking. “You can fix it. The both of you, if you concentrate hard enough.”  
  
“What?”  Kirsten walked over to her sister, confusion wrinkling her brow.  
  
“I can’t go.  I’m not strong enough yet.  Only a Slayer could do it.”  
  
“Annie, what are you on about?”  
  
“I can tell you when to go and Robbie can help you get there. You’d have to go back and help protect her.” Annie looked up at her, blue eyes wide and knowing.  
  
“How?  It’s not possible.”  
  
A particularly loud growl from her parents room sounded, followed immediately by a thud that rattled the windows. “Kirsten, if Daddy leaves this time, he’s not ever coming back.  _Ever_.  He’ll find _her_ again and forget all about Mommy until it’s too late.”  
  
Kirsten stared at her younger sister, unable to process what she was hearing.  “You’ve seen that?”  
  
“Yeah. Daddy won’t ever come back.” Tears streamed down her face, and Annie gracefully wiped her nose on her sleeve. “I don’t want Daddy to go, Kirstie. We have to stop it.”  
  
With another glance upstairs, Kirsten made a snap decision. She rarely asked Annie to see the future for her, but she needed to know. “Tell me everything.”  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
She was waiting up when the boys got home, sitting on the floor of their bedroom, holding onto Connor’s soccer jersey.  
  
They barreled into the door, one behind the other, stopping short at Kirsten’s presence.  
  
“What’s up?” Robbie dropped onto his bed, eyeing his twin warily. She was finally stronger than he was, having been called on the last Slayer’s death, some girl in Cleveland who’d only been a Slayer for a couple of months, but they’d always known Kirsten was going to be one. So was Annie. Hopefully, Kirsten wouldn’t have to die for Annie to be called.  
  
“They’ve been fighting again.  Annie says this time Daddy’s not gonna come back.”  
  
“Shit.”  Robbie dropped back onto his bed, while Connor threw something at the wall.  
  
“Yeah.”  Kirsten hesitated, wondering how to tell them what else Annie had said.    
  
“Spill it, I can hear your thoughts.”  
  
“Okay, here’s the thing.” She proceeded to outline Annie’s plan, holding nothing back, relaying to the boys everything she’d seen.  
  
When she was finished, the boys shared a look over her head.  
  
“Kirsten, you know . . . Like Dad says.” Connor started and finished with Robbie’s voice added to his. “There’s always consequences when you use magic.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah. I know. But see, here’s the thing. We already know the consequences of not going back. What happens if I do manage to save her?”  
  
“So the only thing you’re allowed to stop is her dying.”  Robbie stared at his twin, waiting for her answer.  
  
“Yeah.  It is.  I can’t change anything else.”  
  
The boys fell silent, lapsing into their own thoughts. Both of them understood, if Annie said it could be done, then they could do it. Connor glanced at the two younger teens, knowing this was really their decision. He couldn’t aid or help at all. He was a magical – not nullity, but more like a natural repellant. Nothing really worked on him – and if they were going to do it – the decision was theirs.  
  
Robbie listened to the sounds of the house, how quiet it was. _So we can do it. . . But should we? Mom’s been . . . I know she loves him and I know he loves her, it’s so easy to see when they aren’t fighting. Could going back and saving her be the key to making things better? Mom doesn’t mention her name, except when she’s fighting with Dad . . . so maybe Annie is right. Has she ever been wrong?_ He thought about his father, how much he could learn from him and knew his mind was made up.  
  
“Let’s do it.”  
  
Kirsten picked up her head and smiled.  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
They’d waited until the next morning, when all four of them were supposed to be in school. It was normally Kirsten’s responsibility to get Annie to school, while Robbie and Connor fended for themselves. Going through the motions like everything was normal, the boys headed out first and then Kirsten left with Annie.  
  
However, that particular morning, the boys were waiting around the corner and as soon as the girls came into sight, they grabbed the backpacks they’d stashed the night before and headed for Restfield, to their father’s old crypt.  
  
None of them spoke, not even Annie, who was usually something of a chatterbox. Connor kept his silence, though he was afraid of the consequences. There was a reason why Dad always said that about magic; he was just hoping in this case it wasn’t too high a price.  
  
But he’d be willing to go through anything to fix the future Annie saw.  
  
Robbie was glad it was daylight, because he had a feeling his father would stop them. It was one of the reasons why he insisted they move it out of the house – because their father had the nose of a bloodhound on steroids. There was no other way to shield their actions from him. He wasn’t as worried about their mother, since whenever she was in a snit like the one she’d been in lately – they could set up a brass band in the house and she wouldn’t notice.  
  
It was crazy how much faith they were putting in a ten year old’s visions, but Kirsten figured they didn’t have much choice. Annie hadn’t ever been wrong before, in fact her predictions were scarily accurate for such a young child. _So if she said Daddy was going to leave and not ever come back, then that was what was going to happen._ She didn’t want her father to leave – he’d only been home for a year – and she. . . She didn’t like it when he was gone. Her mother. . . Things weren’t pretty when he wasn’t around. Not that they were always great when he was around – but at least they had the makings of a real family.   
  
Lately, she’d been patrolling with him and Kirsten realized she had so much to learn from him – things that would keep her alive much longer. Not that she hadn’t always known she was a Slayer, but still, sparring with the only vampire to have killed two and fought with more – and the only vampire guaranteed not to kill her, Kirsten was still in awe.  
  
She often found it hard to reconcile the fact her father had such a fearsome reputation. Reality was – William the Bloody was the most fearsome vampire . . . Well, he controlled the West Coast and all demon traffic in and out of Los Angeles and pretty much everywhere else up and down the coast.  
  
Her mother’s reputation was no less fearsome. Kirsten shot a look over Annie’s head at her brother. Sometimes it was scary thinking about all they’d inherited from their parents. . .  
  
Robbie glanced at her, feeling her eyes on him and knowing what was going on in his sister’s head.  “Second thoughts?”  
  
“Nope.”  She shrugged her shoulders, a familiar smirk blooming across her features.  “We need to do this.”  
  
He looked down at their little sister, then slapped her playfully on the head.  “All because it’s what prophecy girl says.”  
  
Annie kicked him, then teased, “I’ll tell about you and Jenna.”  
  
Robbie took off after her, growling, while she raced away, her laughter trailing behind her.  
  
“You all right Kirstie-girl?”  
  
“I guess.  A little nervous.”  She didn’t look at Connor, keeping her eyes instead on her siblings.  
  
“You don’t have to do this, even if Annie says so.”  He stopped her with a hand on her arm, pulling her around to face him.  
  
Kirsten faced him without expression.  “You heard it.  I have to do it.  If I don’t, she just might and she’s not ready.”  
  
“As long as you’re sure.”  
  
“I am.  I’m the only one who can go.”  Kirsten shook off his hand, then raced off behind the other two.  
  
Connor sighed, pushing aside his own misgivings in light of Kirsten’s certainty.  
  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
  
“Remember, Kirsten, what you’re supposed to do, right?” Annie was all business, strangely composed for a mere ten year old. She eyed her siblings from her spot on the triangle, pointing for the other two to sit on the remaining points.  
  
“Annie . . . how many bloody times am I gonna have to say yes to the same bloody question?” Kirsten groused at her little sister as she sat down.  
  
“Every time I ask it.”  
  
“Let’s just do this.”  Robbie spoke before the two girls could start again, hoping to speed things up.  
  
“Ready?”  
  
“Yeah.”    
  
The twins spoke simultaneously and Annie nodded. “Okay, only this time will you need my help, Kirsten. After this time, you should be able to just know how to do it again if you need to.”  
  
Silence settled over the four of them, and each of them slowed their breathing, unconsciously following Annie’s example.  
  
With her voice a bare whisper, Annie brought Kirsten through the steps. “Close your eyes, focus inward. Heartbeat slow, almost gone. Time will fold . . . Search for the moment . . . seek the Key.”  
  
Kirsten felt herself stretching, felt her heartbeat slowing, her surroundings wavering and stretching out before her. She closed her eyes, pitched forward and disappeared.  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
People were streaming past her, stepping over and around her, practically running in their haste to get to the exits. Kirsten got to her feet, feeling a little woozy and very disoriented. For a few heartbeats her vision was blurred, then cleared as she got her equilibrium back.   
  
Glancing around, Kirsten realized where she was, but not when she was. _Okay, so here I am in school anyway.  Why the hell did we bother doing this?  Hey . . .  wait a second. . ._ Inhaling deeply, she relaxed herself and extended her senses, like she’d been trained to do. A signature – her father – came through clearly and Kirsten headed in that direction.  
  
The crowds were thinning and she could hear the sounds of fighting down one of the hallways. Making a split second decision, she raced toward the noises, every sense on alert. _Don’t have a weapon . . .    Daddy always says keep one handy._   _A Slayer should always have her weapon at the ready. . ._ Kirsten leapt over the motionless form of a weirdly dressed guy, stooping to pick up the sword he clutched in his lax hand, her foot landing squarely on his chest.  _Dunno why you’ve got a sword, dude, but I’m taking it with me.  I need it more than you do._  
  
Curses and growls sounded from behind a set of doors leading to the gym and she swore it was her father’s voice. Without hesitating or caring what kind of situation she was heading into, Kirsten swung open the door.  
  
 _There . . ._ He was fighting against five humans who were circled around him. Wasting no time, Kirsten ran forward, sliding into the circle under one of the weird guy’s arms and, in the same motion, struck the arm of another, breaking the bone.  
  
Kirsten felt her father pause, watching her for a second, then turn back to fighting. He was using a chair to fend off and guard against his opponents, but she could tell he wasn’t faring well, or fighting as hard as he could. It took her a few minutes, time they didn’t really have to waste before she realized the chip was still in his head and that’s why he was hampered. Two-handed, Kirsten swung the sword at a torso, jumping back when blood splashed at her.  
  
There was a metallic crack and a growl of pain, and Kirsten felt the shift in the air as her father went down.  
  
Three of the goons circled her now, and Kirsten stepped back, one foot on either side of her father’s prone body. She arced the sword in front of her, holding her attackers off and she heard a shrieking voice.  
  
“ _Spike!_   Nooooooo!”  
  
Then, “Dawn. . .  Stop!  He said get your sister.”  
  
 _Okay, Mom’s gonna get here soon, so I just have to hold on until then._   “All right you wankers, come an’ get it.”  
  
Kirsten grinned, waiting for one of them to make a move.  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
  
  
 _C’mon Mom . . . what the hell is taking so damn freaking long? I can’t hold off all these wankers by myself . . . Where the hell are you?_  
  
One of the knights feinted to his left, then tried striking at her from the right, but Kirsten had kept her eye on him, and she easily blocked his awkward movement. _These guys have not trained at all.  At least not with the kind of fighters I’ve been training with.  Sheesh._  
  
There was a groan from the still form at her feet and Kirsten dared a glance down, automatically lifting her arm as another one of the attackers tried to take advantage of her seeming distraction. Spike – her father – was battered almost beyond recognition, blood seeping from wounds at his face and one of his arms; his hair was so matted with the liquid it almost looked like he’d tried changing his hair color. The duster he always wore hid most of the damage, but she knew it was bad, because he wasn’t moving and he hadn’t once spoken.  
  
She tried guessing how long it had been, but her sense of time was off, made wonky by her trip through time.  _Helluva trip, there, Kirstie-girl . . .  what the hell have you gotten yourself into?_  
  
It was taking too long, and she had no idea how many of the bad guys were ringed around her, though Kirsten no longer cared. Her only concerns were remaining on her feet and protecting her father’s prone form.  
  
There was a loud shriek of grating metal from somewhere behind her, followed by a shift in the air and suddenly Kirsten was joined by a very familiar figure. Two knights went down before Kirsten recovered, automatically falling into step with her mother. She breathed out in relief, swinging the sword with her left hand, incapacitating one more attacker. Her mother’s voice reached her through the other noises and Kirsten found herself joining in. “He’s not dust. . . . Not dust.”  
  
Buffy looked up then, staring into Kirsten’s eyes. A flash of recognition flared between them, then Buffy deflected a blow aimed at Kirsten, following through by decapitating the assailant.  
  
Jumping over Spike, the two females traded positions, Buffy on Kirsten’s right and Kirsten guarding her mother’s left side.  
  
Time and focus narrowed, down to the blows delivered, counterpointed by her mother’s repetitive mantra.  
  
Finally, the last knight fell, wounded by blows from both of them, and her mother dropped her sword, falling to her knees.  
  
Kirsten was standing in a spreading shallow pool of blood, splatters and gore covering nearly every inch of her. A sob reached her ears, followed by the sound of someone vomiting.  
  
 _Mommy?   Mom?   No, have to remember can’t call her that . . ._   “Buffy?”  
  
Buffy stared up at Kirsten, wiping her mouth.  “How do you know me?”  
  
“I. . . I know lots of things.  I’m Kirsten.”  
  
Before she could comment, Buffy’s attention was diverted by a low groan from Spike.  “Oh god. .  .  _Spike. . . . Oh god._ ”  
  
Kirsten watched her mother almost fall apart, tears dripping down her cheeks, while she covered her own sobs.  
  
“Buffy, _Buffy_ , we need to get him out of here.” Kirsten hadn’t been able to stop her own tears, watching her mother fall to pieces. _Oh Daddy . . ._   
  
“Have to. . . Blanket. . . Something to lift him.” Buffy spied a gymnastics mat, getting to her feet to tug it to where Spike lay on the gym floor. “Help me lift him up.”  
  
It didn’t take them long at all, moving Spike onto the mat, and though he tried to hide it, every movement caused him more pain. Taking opposite sides of the mat, they easily lifted it, moving quickly into the locker room and out the back doors.  
  
Kirsten did a double take when she saw Oz with his old van waiting for them.  _Man. . . haven’t seen Uncle Oz in like weeks. . . Since just before he and Auntie T moved.  He’s so young . . ._ So caught up in her memories, Kirsten missed whatever they said, only coming back to the present when Oz jumped into the back of the van, grabbing Buffy’s end of the mat. He pulled it backwards, moving toward the front of the van. Her mother hopped up next, her hands immediately grasping her father’s.  
  
Kirsten slammed the doors shut, then slipped around to climb into the passenger’s seat. Without waiting for Oz to question her presence, Kirsten spoke. “We should be safe at Buffy’s. Tara’s got stronger wards up by now.”  
  
 _Oh god, I hope to hell I’m right, because if I’m wrong. . . this isn’t going to be a good thing._  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
  
They were nearly home, when her mother’s voice broke the unnerving silence that had surrounded them.  
  
“Oz, stop by the hospital.”  
  
Kirsten didn’t say anything, until Oz changed direction, driving back toward the hospital, which they’d already passed. She swung around on the seat, staring down at her mother’s bowed head. “We need to get to safety.”  
  
“He. . .  He needs blood more.  And I can’t set his legs. . .  Or his arm.  Some – someone needs to do it.”  
  
Kirsten couldn’t help the words from escaping, despite knowing they would hurt.  “They’re gonna tell you he’s dead.”  
  
Soft choking sobs escaped from her mother. Her tone, when she spoke, was harsh in spite of the tears. “I know that. . . I can’t. . .” There was a long pause, and her mother repeated her earlier words. “He needs. . . Someone to set his legs. And his arm.”  
  
“Want me to get one of the docs I know?”  
  
“Yeah. . . that would be. . . One that knows you’re a werewolf?”  
  
“Yup.”  Parking the van near the morgue entrance, Oz spoke while getting out.  “Be right back.”  
  
Kirsten remained silent, giving her parents privacy, although she turned slightly to watch them surreptitiously. Buffy was practically lying beside Spike, her face bare inches from his. She watched her father’s hand close around the ends of her mother’s hair, holding on desperately. The emotions swirling around the van’s interior gave Kirsten hope – and scared her at the same time. Dawn was safe – for tonight at least – but the shape her father was in didn’t bode well. But like her mother had said, _as long as he’s not dust he’ll be able to heal._  
  



	2. Time keeps on ticking. . .

**_Two. Time keeps on ticking. . ._**  
  
 ** _Time is a sort of river of passing events,_**  
 ** _and strong is its current;_**  
 ** _no sooner is a thing brought to sight_**  
 ** _than it is swept by and another takes its place,_**  
 ** _and this too will be swept away._**  
 ** _Marcus Aurelius, Meditations. iv. 43._**  
  
 ** _Come what come may,_**  
 ** _Time and the hour runs through the roughest day._**  
 ** _Macbeth. Act i. Sc. 3._**  
  
 ** _Time is the great physician._**  
 ** _Benjamin Disraeli, Henrietta Temple, Book vi. Chap. ix._**  
  
  
  
The second Kirsten disappeared, Robbie had fallen over, nearly banging his head on the sarcophagus beside him. If Connor’s reflexes hadn’t been so fast, he would’ve suffered from a nasty cut or concussion.  
  
Without thinking, Connor lifted his younger brother, laying him out flat on top of the sarcophagus. He turned around in time to see Annie stumble to her feet, reeling from the strain. Leaving Robbie where he was, Connor easily lifted Annie in his arms, looking around for a place to put her. Finding nothing, Connor sank down on his haunches, his back against the crypt wall.  
  
It was weird being back here, the remnants of his father’s occupancy still evident. The electricity still worked, and although the original refrigerator and microwave had long been replaced by newer models, the place still had Spike’s presence stamped on it. He and Robbie had been looking for a new couch and chairs, but they hadn’t been able to find anything. They’d been using the place for at least two years, since Spike had brought them for the first time, the year they’d turned thirteen.  
  
The television was relatively new, as was the sound system. Spike’s old weapons chest had a new lock, and the downstairs was blocked off by the sarcophagus Robbie was resting on.   
  
Connor leaned his head back, Anne’s head against his chest. He didn’t realize she was still awake until her soft voice sounded quietly, very small in the echoing chamber.  
  
"One of us is going to have to pay a price for this."  
  
His hand dropped away from her shoulder. "What do you mean, Sprite?"  
  
"I’m not really sure. I just know one of us is going to have to pay for saving Dawn." She shifted off his lap, sitting beside him with her head still on his shoulder.  
  
They sat in companionable silence for a little longer, neither one of them caring about the lack of chatter. Annie was different from the twins, a calm, introspective child, quiet and more likely to be found reading or at their Aunt Tara’s side. Connor sometimes thought she was a changeling, taking after neither of their parents, until one late night, just after they’d brought Will home from the hospital. Little Will had come way to early, and was, in more ways than one, a miracle. Spike was up holding the baby, reading to him because it calmed his pitiful crying.  
  
Which wasn’t exactly unusual, until he’d looked closer at what his father had been reading. Spike had been reading Moliere. In French. Out loud. Oh, he hadn’t known at the time who the author was, but Spike’s voice had been low and steady, not tripping over the words at all. He’d been sitting there, Will’s tiny form resting over his unbeating heart, wearing an open button-down shirt, old jeans and  sporting a pair of wire-rimmed round glasses on the bridge of his nose.   
  
So apparently, Annie got her brains from their father.  
  
Brought back from his memories by a groan from over their heads, Connor asked, "Any idea what we might have to pay?"  
  
Speaking in a voice much older than her ten years, Annie’s reply raised his hackles. "Only a dead man can cross the boundaries and the price isn’t permanent."  
  
Connor stared at the top of her head, almost afraid to speak. _What the hell had just come out of her mouth? And even better, who?_ As he rolled the words over and over, Connor made a decision.   
  
“I’ll do it."  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
  
Her parents were not the kind of people that hid their feelings. They were demonstrative, always touched when things were good between them and equally expressive when they weren’t. Kirsten had seen them in every extreme – good and bad – and not once in that time had she ever witnessed a moment like this one. Not even after Will had been born.  
  
There was so much love; desperate, consuming, overwhelming love swirling in the air between them that Kirsten couldn’t breathe. Her mother was clinging to her father, clutching his bloody fingers in hers like she couldn’t let go. Didn’t dare to let him go.  
  
Tears were sliding down Buffy’s cheeks, washing away some of the blood covering Spike’s face. Kirsten wiped her own eyes. One of her mother’s hands brushed over his face, wiping away more of the blood. Buffy’s voice broke the silence, sounding so small and lost.  
  
"Please be okay, Spike. I need you to be okay.  
  
The back door of the van swung open and then everything moved at a blur. Before Kirsten realized it, her Aunt Reenie and Doc Thomas were working on her father, setting bones and stapling the larger wounds closed. Most of the blood had been washed from his skin, although his hair was still a disgusting mass of clumped blood and gel.  
  
An IV dripped blood into his left arm and every couple of minutes, Aunt Reenie gave him another shot of anesthesia, numbing the affected areas while the general worked its way through his sluggish bloodstream.  
  
Doc Thomas was telling her mother exactly what was wrong with her father and Kirsten stared at his still form, unable to believe he was still with them. He’d taken quite a beating to protect Dawn, and Kirsten wondered if he knew the truth about her.  
  
Kirsten wasn’t sure how much of the truth she knew, having only heard bits and pieces over the years, but she did know that Dawn was her older sister. Just now, tonight, she’d managed to intervene and save her life. Kirsten was lost in thought, watching though  not really seeing what was going on around her. Surely, if she’d saved Dawn, her memories would be different. Something about the past would have changed, and though she searched her brain, nothing had changed.  
  
 _How is that possible? Annie said this was the moment and going back now should have worked. What the heck am I gonna do now?_  
  
Kirsten fought panic, at the same time trying to memorize everything around her so she could question Annie – and her parents – later.  
  
Something wasn’t right and she needed to get back home as quickly as possible.  
  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
  
  
The house was in complete chaos when they finally got there. Everyone was still awake and Dawn – Kirsten still couldn’t wrap her head around that twist – was there too.  
  
She was bombarded on all sides by strangeness, constantly biting her tongue and guarding what she said. Kirsten didn’t dare give too much away and she’d already had a very close call. When they’d left the hospital and Buffy had asked her if her parents knew where she was, Kirsten had to bite back the smart-assed retort that sprung automatically to her lips.   
  
Once they’d moved Spike upstairs, Buffy disappearing with him, Tara took control and got everything organized.  
  
Kirsten found herself stammering out some brainless, lame excuse about why she was there and who she was. Thankfully, no one was playing close attention. She did know, however, that come the morning, her hasty lies weren’t going to stand up to scrutiny. _And it’s a really good thing Gramps isn’t here; otherwise, I’d be in so much damn trouble right now. Where the heck is he anyway?_  
  
"Okay, you two, upstairs to bed." Tara looked at the two teens, finally taking in the other girl’s blood splattered clothing. "Kirsten? I think. . . I’ll get something of Buffy’s from the wash. You can shower and change before you head . . ."  
  
Her voice trailed off and Kirsten shrugged, looking down at herself. "Yeah, I can’t really go home looking like this."  
  
Following Dawn up the very familiar steps, Kirsten headed into the bathroom, trying to figure out what she should do next.  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
  
Annie didn’t know what she’d actually said; or rather, what Connor thought she said. Whatever it was, though, had her very worried about her older brother.   
  
He’d scared her. Annie knew that sometimes she had moments of . . . blankness . . . when things would pop out of her mouth that she wasn’t always aware of saying. Prophecies, visions, warnings; her family had come to recognize the signs a very long time ago. But for a ten year old, even the daughter of two mystical beings, it was still a bit scary.  
  
She just wished Connor would tell her what she’d said. He’d been very quiet for the last couple of minutes, quieter than he normally was, and it was beginning to wig her a bit.   
  
"Connor?"  
  
He shifted, looking away from her. "Yeah?"  
  
"What did I say?"  
  
To his ear, Annie sounded very much like a very frightened little girl. Which, in a way, was exactly what she was. _Sometimes_. He just had a weird feeling about what she’d said, almost like it had to be him to make the sacrifice.  
  
Like it was something he’d been destined to do, no matter what the circumstances or the situation. The words – his words – had slipped from his mouth with an eerie sense of finality. Only now he was a bit reluctant about sharing that with her. She was still a little girl, after all.  
  
"C’mon, Con, tell me what I said."  
  
Annie moved her shoulder, knocking into his side, forcing him to look down at her. Connor’s blue eyes stared into Annie’s and he sighed. He never could resist her when she looked at him like that. "All right."  
  
After he mumbled it out, all she did was stare at him, a far away look in her eyes. He waited her out, knowing when she was ready, Annie would speak.  
  
It didn’t take her nearly as long as he thought it would.  
  
"You know," she started speaking like there’d been no break in the conversation at all, something he always found a little curious. "You don’t have to volunteer. Whoever makes those decisions won’t necessarily listen."  
  
Connor got to his feet, uncharacteristically showing his emotions. "You do know you’re only _ten_ , don’t you?"  
  
She cocked her head to the side, curls spilling over her eyes, shielding them from him. "Well, duh. I do know how old I am."  
  
"Well, could you just act like it, once in a while?" Connor ran a hand through his hair, agitation in every motion.  
  
Annie didn’t know why he was so angry with her, didn’t understand why his mood suddenly changed. "Connor?"  
  
He cut her off before she could finish, snapping at her. "Don’t, Annie. Just leave me alone."  
  
"Fine." Annie crossed her arms over her small chest, petulance in her tone and body language. "Be like that."  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
  
Dawn was waiting for her when she finally got out of the shower, standing in the hallway. Beckoning Kirsten into her room, the other girl chattered rapidly, almost whispering, "C’mon, you can stay in my room. Tara’s downstairs with Oz and Wesley, and Buffy’s still with Spike."  
  
Kirsten stared at the taller girl, memorizing every feature. _Holy crap, Dawn looks just like Daddy! Probably even more than Robbie does. Damn. . ._ Any doubt in Kirsten’s mind about Dawn being her older sister was gone. Aside from their hair, Dawn and Robbie were more alike than she and Robbie were. They used to joke about it, how much they didn’t look alike, but now it kind of hurt a little. And that was really weird and childish, she knew that, but it didn’t stop Kirsten from feeling that way.  
  
"I can’t believe those freaky knights came back. What the hell is all that about, anyway? I mean, Glory’s gone, so. . ." Dawn realized half a second too late that she’d been babbling about the wrong things, blurting it out without thinking. She stared at the shorter girl, blue eyes wide with delayed shock.  
  
" _Oh, **shit!**_ "  
  
Kirsten smiled crookedly, watching Dawn warily, trying to swallow her own confusion. She stepped closer to Dawn. "Um, you know, you can tell me anything. I swear, I won’t say anything to anyone."  
  
All she could do was hope Dawn believed her and would trust her, letting Kirsten in, telling her more about what their family was like before all the badness. Kirsten held her breath, waiting for Dawn to make a decision.  
  
For her part, Dawn was really looking at Kirsten. The smaller blond teen was standing at her desk, arms crossed and hip thrust out in a pose Dawn could’ve sworn was right out of the Slayer handbook. Suspicion bloomed in her head, and Dawn wasn’t going to stop the questions. Taking a chance and a leap of faith, Dawn spoke. "Kirsten, are you like weirdly strong?"  
  
She’d expected this question, or something like it, just not from the person standing in front of her. Kirsten ran through her options.  _I can lie and deny everything, or I can tell the partial truth and bluff my way through this. What to do. . . what to do?_  
  
 _Oh, well, here goes nothing._ A sigh wafted from her lips and Kirsten stared her older sister in the eyes. "I’m a potential."  
  
If it was possible for Dawn to become more suspicious, Kirsten could see it in her eyes. "A potential what?"  
  
As if you don’t know the answer to that one. "I was identified when I was five as a potential slayer. I’ve been training ever since."  
  
Kirsten waited for an explosion that never came. Instead, Dawn stared back, an assessing gleam in her eyes. "Are you the only other one in Sunnydale?"  
  
"So _not_ the reaction I was expecting."  
  
Dawn shrugged, her pose unconsciously mimicking Kirsten’s. "Yeah, well, I’m not as gullible as Buffy thinks I am. And hey, the Council would so do something this sneaky." Calculation flared briefly in Dawn’s blue eyes and she continued, "Does Giles know about you?"  
  
 _Crap_. . . "Um. No. And I don’t have a Watcher either." Thinking quickly, Kirsten said, "I was supposed to wait until I was sixteen before I introduced myself to Giles."  
  
"So, who’s been training you, if Giles isn’t?" Dawn sat down on the edge of her bed, watching Kirsten pace about restlessly.  
  
"My Da. He used to be part of the Council, until I was identified. We moved here from England." Kirsten held her breath, hoping Dawn would believe the partial lie. She couldn’t think of any other way to explain away her presence or her knowledge of real life in Sunnydale.  
  
"Your father? I didn’t know Watchers were allowed to have families. What was he? A researcher?"   
  
Dawn seemed to be buying her explanation and Kirsten relaxed just a little bit. She had to hide a laugh though, at the thought of her father being a researcher for the Council. "No, not really. He was more into, um, you know, covert ops."  
  
"Oh cool. So he knows all kinds of neat moves and stuff." Dawn’s face fell for a moment. "I wish sometimes Buffy or Spike would show me how to fight. I hate being useless."  
  
"I bet you could get one of them to do it." Kirsten couldn’t say anything. Her father was the one to introduce them to fighting, because he was more patient than her mother was, as unbelievable as that sounded. Plus, he could explain the moves better than she did, breaking them down so that it always looked like dancing. She wanted to tell Dawn to ask Spike after he got back on his feet, but she couldn’t. She didn’t dare.  
  
"Maybe. Buffy’s like weirdly over-protective sometimes and sometimes she’s not. Spike would probably do it though, if I asked him." Dawn’s expression changed, and she paled a bit. "Well, once he gets back on his feet. I can’t believe he did that. He’s such a dope. He knows he can’t fight humans, but does that stop him? No, of course not. Buttmunch."  
  
Though her words were a bit harsh, the tone of her voice, tear-filled and scared, let Kirsten know Dawn was just covering up her own fears and confusion. _But, hey, that explains why he was holding back. He couldn’t really fight them. So when does he get the chip out? Obviously after we arrived. . . I guess._  
  
Dawn was still muttering about stupid vampires under her breath and trying hard not to cry. Kirsten moved closer, laying a hand on her shoulder and squeezed a bit. "I bet he would do anything to protect you, Dawn. He seems like that kind of a guy."  
  
A short, bitter laugh escaped from her older sister, and Kirsten sat down next to her, her eyes on Dawn’s chalky face. "You have no idea. Stupid vamp does the craziest things and he doesn’t even know the half of it."  
  
"What do you mean?" Kirsten held the rest of her questions, hoping Dawn would continue to confide in her.  
  
"Promise you won’t say anything to anyone?" When Kirsten nodded and held out her pinky, Dawn did the same. "Okay. I found some old journals that Giles had. And well, the short story is; I’m not really real and well, I am real, but I’m the Key and I’ve got this glowy green energy inside me and anyway, the Initiative stole DNA from Spike when they put the chip in and they got some from Buffy and then the monks stole it from them and made me."  
  
At Kirsten’s dumbfounded look, Dawn shook her head. "Yeah, I know. It’s the freakiest thing. But he’s my father. Spike and Buffy are my real parents."  
  
 _Is that how it worked? But that can’t be, because we have pictures of Mom when she was pregnant with us. And Annie. And boy, do I remember the crazy hormones and total insanity when she was pregnant with Will. I was there when he was born . . . in the room with them! So it can’t be how we all got here._ Without thinking, Kirsten blurted out some of what she was mulling over. "So you were created by monks?"  
  
A deep sigh broke from Dawn’s lips. "Yeah. As crazy as it sounds, that’s what happened." There was a strange look in her eyes as she continued. "I’ve been reading the journals. The monks kind of engineered everything, at least I think so. It’s really bogus too, because I like, just sprung up at fourteen. Every memory before that was planted by those damned monks."  
  
The girls lapsed into silence, neither one sure what else to say. Dawn was staring at a picture on her dresser, one of herself and Buffy, taken at Christmas the year before. Looking at the faces with a dispassionate eye, she could clearly see the differences. She should, she’d been doing it for the last week or so. Stealing a glance at the girl beside her, Dawn wondered if being short was a requirement of being a Slayer. _Did the powers pick them because demons would be fooled by their size? Was every single Slayer barely taller than a midget?_ Kirsten was smaller than Buffy, which was majorly freaky.  
  
Kirsten, oddly enough, was also looking at the same picture, gazing at the almost carefree expression on her mother’s face. She still looked the same, except for a few lines here and there, and she was just as thin.  The difference was Buffy appeared happy; the shadows Kirsten always saw weren’t there. There was so much of her mother’s past she didn’t know about . . . so many unspoken secrets. _Hell, if Daddy could’ve stayed away, would I have even met him?_  
  
Unable to keep still or silent any longer, Kirsten got up and started pacing. Deliberately not looking at her sister, she asked her quietly, "How long have they been together?"  
  
A crazy sort of laugh sounded in the air, raising the hairs on Kirsten’s body. "That’s a whole ‘nother story." Silence once again filled the room. "Only since Buffy came back from the dead."  
  
There was a thud as Kirsten dropped the book she’d been looking at. "She what?"  
  
Dawn laughed again. "Kirsten, you have no idea how freaky life has been around here lately."   
  
Swallowing hard, Kirsten said, "Maybe you should tell me."  
  
"Yeah. Maybe I should."  
  
And for the next two hours, that’s exactly what Dawn did.  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
  
 _My brain is fried. I can’t freaking think at all. All this information. Holy crap. Mom was dead. How come none of us knew that? What else don’t we know about? What the hell else?_  
  
Dawn had fallen asleep sometime around nine, after very nearly talking herself hoarse. Kirsten couldn’t settle down, couldn’t stop her restless brain from thinking. There was no way she could make sense of all the information.  
  
 _I need to talk to Robbie. And Connor. They’ll know what to do. Between the three of us and Annie, we should be able to come up with some way to fix this. How could Annie have been so wrong?_  
  
Unlike earlier, Kirsten knew exactly what to do now. It was time. The house was completely quiet, everyone seemed to be asleep. Now was the perfect time to go back.  
  
Getting up from the bed she was sharing with Dawn, Kirsten looked back down at her. Her face was turned toward the door, one hand resting down along her side, the other curled under her pillow. Kirsten didn’t want to go. She’d just found her, and now, she knew she had only managed to save her for the moment.  
  
Fighting tears, Kirsten deliberately turned away. _I can’t do anything more right now. I need to figure out what we missed._ Concentrating hard on what Annie had told her about how to get home, Kirsten kept her eyes on Dawn’s form. Her heart rate slowed, her vision dimmed, and Kirsten disappeared from the room.  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
  
The only warning they had of Kirsten’s return was Robbie’s abrupt wakening. One moment it was just the two of them in very uncomfortable silence and the next Robbie had snapped his eyes open and sat up.  
  
"My freaking head hurts. What the bloody hell is goin’ on?" Robbie groaned into his hands.  
  
Connor whirled around from his position at the crypt window, reaching out to grab Robbie before he fell off the top of the sarcophagus.  
  
"I feel like shit."  
  
Robbie pushed off Connor’s hands, then laid back down, curling into himself. "I wanna heave."  
  
"Me too."  
  
They all looked up in time to see Kirsten drop to her knees, arms stretched out in front in an effort to break her fall. Connor tried but he couldn’t reach her in time and Kirsten fell hard. Her chin narrowly missed bouncing off the floor, her natural grace and athleticism deserting her. She groaned, rolling into a ball, every inch of her achy and hurting. By the time Anne and Connor reached her, Kirsten’s body had begun the reaction to all the stress she’d put it under.  
  
She was panting, breathing through her mouth in an effort to stave off the growing nausea. Her efforts proved futile, and just as Connor was helping her sit up, Kirsten leaned over, vomiting violently.  
  
Connor wrapped his arms around her, wrestling her away from the mess on the floor. "C’mon, Kirstie-girl, up you go."  
  
Robbie rolled off the top of the sarcophagus, giving Connor room to put his twin down. Kirsten was still shaking, dry heaving, and doubled up in pain. Making a split second decision, knowing he had to do something to get them all back on their feet, Connor lifted Annie up, placing her next to Kirsten.  
  
"Keep her warm. I’ll be right back."  
  



	3. The second hand unwinds

**_3.  The second hand unwinds_**  
  
 ** _Lying in my bed I hear the clock tick_**  
 ** _And think of you_**  
 ** _Caught up in circles_**  
 ** _Confusion Is nothing new_**  
 ** _Flashback warm nights_**  
 ** _Almost left behind_**  
 ** _Suitcase of memories_**  
 ** _Time after_**  
 ** _Sometimes you picture me_**  
 ** _I'm walking too far ahead_**  
 ** _You're calling to me, I can't hear_**  
 ** _What you've said_**  
 ** _Then you say go slow_**  
 ** _I fall behind_**  
 ** _The second hand unwinds_**  
 ** _If you're lost you can look and you will find me_**  
 ** _Time after time_**  
 ** _If you fall I will catch you_**  
 ** _I'll be waiting_**  
 ** _Time after time_**  
 ** _If you're lost you can look and you will find me_**  
 ** _Time after time_**  
 ** _If you fall I will catch you_**  
 ** _I'll be waiting_**  
 ** _Time after time_**  
 ** _After my picture fades and darkness has_**  
 ** _Turned to gray_**  
 ** _Watching through windows_**  
 ** _you're wondering If I'm OK_**  
 ** _Secrets stolen from deep inside_**  
 ** _The drum beats out of time_**  
 ** _You said go slow_**  
 ** _I fall behind_**  
 ** _The second hand unwinds_**  
 ** _Time after time_**  
 ** _Cyndi Lauper, Time After Time, from the album She’s so Unusual_**  
  
  
  
Connor stepped outside the crypt, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket. "Jake. Grab your sister and bring supplies." He paused, waiting for a response, then said, "Yeah, at the crypt."  
  
Another pause, then, "No, no . . . dude, do **_NOT_ ** tell your parents."  
  
He slapped it closed, heading back inside where his siblings waited.  
  
Robbie was now curled up behind Kirsten, his arm wrapped around her waist. She was still shaking, and every few minutes her whole body would violently shudder. Her breathing was steady though, which Connor figured was a good sign, and she wasn’t crying anymore.   
  
As he stood there watching them, Connor had the distinct feeling this was one of the last times the four of them would be together like this. A shiver stole through him and his earlier words to Annie echoed through his head. He had a feeling his willingness to accept the burden of payment had already been accepted by the Powers That Be.   
  
Life, as they knew it, was about to change.  
  
Connor hoped that change was for the better. That every risk Kirsten had taken was worth the price he was going to have to pay.  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
  
Jake and Ciara arrived fifteen minutes after Connor alerted them, both toting heavily laden backpacks. The two redheads were also carrying concealed weapons, Jake especially. He never went anywhere unarmed, but when Connor called citing an emergency, he loaded up on the weaponry. Of all of them, he was the one to listen closest whenever Spike took the time to teach them. Whether it was fighting moves or tactics, Jake was usually the most avid student.  
  
Connor nearly laughed when he started unloading the backpack. The first three things were all short-swords, followed by an assortment of throwing knives and Chinese stars. Ciara, on the other hand, was more practical. She’d packed a blanket, a fully stocked first aid kit, and food. Admiration for Ciara rose through him. For a fourteen year old girl, she was pretty damn resourceful. _And cute._  
  
"Dude, did you bring anything other than weapons?"  
  
Jake gazed up at him, an assessing look on his face. "Con, you said bring supplies. I packed what I thought was important. Don’t gimme shit for it."  
  
"Lighten up, man, I’m only joking." Connor lightly slapped him on the shoulder. Turning his attention to Ciara, Connor’s smile changed, his expression softening. "Thanks, Cee. Um, maybe you could help Kirstie?"  
  
She blushed, already on her way toward the sarcophagus and the set of twins resting there.  
  
"You know, Connor, you could be nicer." Annie stood in front of the television, her hands on her hips, lights flashing in her surreal blue-green eyes. "Don’t be so mean and bossy."  
  
"Annie…" Connor shook his head at her, exasperation in his tone.  
  
"Whatever." She shot him another look over her shoulder as she went to see what Ciara was doing.  
  
"Hey, Kirstie, what the hell happened?" Ciara’s soft voice was the first thing other than Robbie’s touch the other girl responded to.  
  
“Doing something silly."  
  
Ciara pushed back a slip of Kirsten’s hair, her eyes on her best friend. Ignoring the fact Kirsten hadn’t really answered her question, Ciara asked her, "Did it work?"  
  
Her mouth was dry and every bone in her body hurt. Kirsten’s eyes fluttered open and her voice croaked badly as she muttered, "Not sure yet." She groaned and Robbie’s hand on her waist tightened. "I feel like shit."  
  
Her twin sat up, helping her to a sitting position. Ciara was there with a juicebox Annie had dug out of her backpack. "Well, what are you gonna do if it didn’t work?"  
  
All of them froze, waiting for Kirsten’s answer, though none was surprised by it.  
  
"I’ll go back."  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
                          
They all trooped in the back door, not caring about the amount of noise they were making. Simultaneously, all three boys raided the refrigerator and cabinets, while the girls critiqued the snack choices. All of them arriving at once wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Sometimes the group congregated at Revello Drive and sometimes at Crawford Street.  
  
It also didn’t matter that their ages ranged from Connor’s sixteen to Taryn’s eight, they were all bound by something deeper and, more often then not, acted like a bunch of siblings.  
  
The noise escalated until they were nearly shouting when Buffy’s loud whisper broke in. "Hey, guys, keep it down. It’s nap time."  
  
She made her way through the kitchen, smiling, ruffling hair, and dropping kisses on various foreheads. Chorused greetings followed her actions, only Kirsten and Robbie sharing a look at their mother’s behavior. Lately, she’d been in a down cycle, shutting herself off from all of them, retreating into her hurt and anger. In fact, she hadn’t come down to see them off to school in weeks, leaving that to Spike or themselves. And now, she was behaving like everything was okay. Which was weird.  
  
Kirsten shrugged her shoulders and headed to the bathroom. She stared at herself in the mirror, wondering how she could have botched the whole trip. Her only purpose in returning had been to save Dawn, and nothing had changed. The only difference was her mother’s change in attitude. Sighing deeply, Kirsten left the bathroom, closing the door behind her and staring at the opposite wall.   
  
And when her mind finally registered what she was seeing, she nearly jumped out of her skin.  
  
There, on the wall, where it had never been before, was a picture.   
  
It was Christmas, because a highly decorated tree was in the background. That wasn’t unusual. Her mother usually had holiday pictures around, but this one was different. This one had four people, laughing and smiling. Her mother was sitting in her father’s lap, his arms wrapped around her waist while she held a tiny little baby in her arms, Connor, she was guessing. And someone else. Someone Kirsten had never seen a picture of, but knew all the same.   
  
_Dawn._  
  
"Rob! C’mere!"   
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
  
Buffy managed to get the kids back outside without waking up either of the two males sleeping in the living room. Spike had fallen asleep watching the FA Cup finals, their current miracle also sound asleep on his chest. William was barely eight weeks old, only in the last couple of days reaching his original arrival date. He’d been born when she’d been just over six months pregnant, her labor accidentally induced when she’d gone after a Mwizi M’toto demon. She and Giles had split up, against Giles’ better judgment, though there hadn’t been much choice. Faced with more than one of the Mwizi M’toto demons, they’d had to. Unfortunately, Buffy’s exertions had triggered an early labor and by the time they’d gotten in touch with Spike and he arrived back in Sunnydale, she was too far gone in labor to halt it. William was born less than six hours later.  
  
Spike had stayed, not going back to Los Angeles.  
  
A soft, sad, almost wistful smile crossed her features and Buffy tucked a blanket over the pair. Even at this stage, it was easy to see their resemblance. William looked just like his father. Same blue eyes, and no doubt, the same cheekbones would develop as Will grew. Brushing a gentle touch over the tiny infant’s back, Buffy whispered a thank you to his father. Straightening up, she stopped when Spike’s fingers caressed her arm.  
  
"Hey, kitten."  
  
"Go back to sleep." She leaned down, her hair cascading over them, cocooning them from the rest of the world.  
  
"Stay with us then." His voice was husky, sleep raspy, and she shivered.  
  
"Kids are home, can’t." Her hand smoothed down the blanket, feeling his strong muscles beneath the fabric. "Besides, you guys were up for a while during the night."  
  
His shrug was barely perceptible. "You needed the sleep, pet. Nipper didn’t settle after you nursed ‘im."  
  
"He likes to be held and I was so tired. I’m sorry."  
  
Spike opened his eyes, gazing up at her intently. A wealth of emotion was there, something Buffy normally shied away from. This time, though, she didn’t, holding Spike’s look. Long moments passed between them and he finally said, "No worries, kitten. ‘M happy to do it."  
  
"Thank you, Spike." Buffy’s fingers covered his features, her touch for once tender. A wistful smile crossed her face and she finally straightened, turning to go. "Get some rest. I’ll keep them outside."  
  
"Buffy," he paused, waiting for her to turn around. "I do love you."  
  
This time her smile was tinged with something he couldn’t quite place. "I know."  
  
She left the two of them, letting him go back to sleep.  
  
Kirsten didn’t move from her spot in the dining room until her mother headed down to the basement.  
  
It took longer than that for her tears to dry.  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
The house was quiet, only the light over the kitchen sink and another in the living room illuminating the darkness when Kirsten got home after patrol. On the twins’ sixteenth birthday, Buffy had finally conceded, allowing them to run weeknight patrols on their own. Kirsten typically went out on the nights Robbie didn’t, especially the nights he was engaged in some sport or another. They were both in varsity sports, taking advantage of their supernatural strength and speed. Kirsten was too short for basketball, so instead, she followed her mother’s footsteps by being a cheerleader. On those nights when the twins didn’t patrol together, Jake typically accompanied her. However, in the eight weeks since he’d been home, Spike had begun tracking their steps, making sure they were safe.  
  
Kirsten closed the back door quietly, heading toward the refrigerator. Though patrol had mostly been a bust, there had been four vampires. Just enough to get her blood pumping, but not enough to make a difference. A soft sigh echoed from her when the search for something edible revealed leftovers and not much else. "There’s nothing here. Dammit."  
  
Rifling through the cabinets didn’t reveal much else and she was heading for the back door again when her mother’s voice broke into her grumbling complaints. "Hey. How was it out there?"  
  
"Eh. Kinda slow. Only four vamps. It’s been really quiet lately." She shrugged, grabbing some iced tea out of the refrigerator. "Mostly since Daddy came back."  
  
Buffy didn’t respond to that, instead moving toward the cabinet closest to the stove. Reaching up into the highest recesses, Buffy pulled out a pan of brownies. "Here, I saved some for you."  
  
"Thanks." Kirsten grabbed two, smiling at her. "How come you’re up?"  
  
"Will just now settled down." Downing a full water bottle, Buffy reached for a second one when Kirsten’s next question stopped her short.  
  
"Is it hard having children?"  
  
Buffy blinked, looking steadily at her daughter, considering the question and why Kirsten was asking this now. Grabbing an orange from the counter, she thought for a minute, wondering exactly what Kirsten was asking. She gave it another moment before she answered her daughter’s question. "Having them isn’t hard. Not having them is worse."  
  
Kirsten hopped up onto the counter, watching Buffy as she stared off into nothing, a sad look on her face and sudden tears swimming in her eyes. She was almost afraid to speak, knowing if her mother  were pushed, she would clam up and not talk. So she waited her out. It wasn’t long before Buffy started speaking.  
  
"We didn’t know. Not at first. It was only after Glory that we finally found out the truth. Wesley brought the journals and that’s how we found out." Buffy absentmindedly peeled the orange, shredding the skin into small pieces. "She…Dawnie found out first, and one night after Spike saved her life, she told us."  
  
A harsh, bittersweet laugh, almost a sob, broke from her then, and she smushed the piece of orange in her hand. "I don’t know how we were all so blind. I mean, she totally looked more like him. Same eyes and nose…same damned temper." Her voice quavered, dropping down to a harsh whisper, and Buffy turned her back, throwing the uneaten orange into the sink. Kirsten could hear the tears in her mother’s voice, but she didn’t dare move. "So, at twenty one, I suddenly found out I had a daughter. A fifteen year old daughter who was also half vamp. Only, she wasn’t just that. She was also a mystical Key, able to unlock dimensional doors."  
  
Buffy lapsed into silence for so long that Kirsten figured she was done talking and she started to move until the next words sounded in the soft late night air. "So much was going on. Connor was born the same night Spike nearly died protecting Dawn and…and Angelus came back. We managed to hold him off until everything went wonky, and Willow…well…Angelus did it."  
  
Her voice was barely more than a whisper of sound, but the words chilled Kirsten’s heart and froze her breath in her chest. "He killed her. He…between Christmas and New Year’s Eve."  
  
Buffy’s shoulders hunched and this time Kirsten knew she was crying. "My fault. It was all my fault. I should have known." She paused, a harsh, full throated sob emerging from her chest. "I should have protected her."  
  
Kirsten dropped down off the counter, coming to stand next to her mother. This was the first time in a very, very long time she’d seen Buffy cry, and Kirsten couldn’t handle it. She laid a hand on her back and Buffy shied away at first, then pulled Kirsten into a tight hug.  
  
Loud, gasping breaths filled the silence.  
  
"I blamed him though. For so long, I was so angry with your father. I hated him because he wasn’t fast enough, when really it was my fault. I should have done a better job." Both of them were crying now, Kirsten because she’d never had this kind of moment before with her mother – and because she’d just gotten the gift of knowing Dawn – and Buffy because she couldn’t think of Dawn, even after all this time, without tears.  
  
Spike stood in the doorway, his eyes trained on the two women in the kitchen. He’d heard the last few minutes and his heart broke, hearing Buffy blame herself for not being there to save Dawn. They’d tried, arriving just seconds after Dawn’s boyfriend collapsed and Angelus had turned his attention to her. He’d been on her in a flash, ripping through her clothes, preparing to rape her. Somehow in the fight that followed, he’d managed to rip out her throat and Spike had then gone into a berserker rage, tearing off Angelus’ head.   
  
It hadn’t been enough.  
  
In the ensuing months, he and Buffy had drifted apart, fighting constantly over the Slayer’s unexpressed grief and rage, her actions pushing him away until he couldn’t bear it anymore. He’d gone to Los Angeles then, setting up a base of operations that still existed. But he’d always been close, keeping tabs on everything Buffy did. And he’d kept coming home, trying for a reconciliation. He hoped this time it would last.  
  
He couldn’t bear to see her cry. Couldn’t withstand the onslaught of her tears. Anger he could deal with, as well as pride and any number of other emotions, but Buffy’s tears had always driven him to desperate lengths to alleviate them. Her tears had always sparked the same in him, even now, after all this time. Unconsciously his feet brought him to where the two were, bathed in the glow of the uncompromising kitchen light. Tear tracks coursed down their faces, eyes shut tight against the palpable grief. Neither one heard him approach, neither one sensed him.  
  
Settling his right hand on Kirsten’s back, Spike snaked his left arm around Buffy, pulling them into his embrace. "Shhhhh. ‘S all right, love, ‘m here."  
  
Kirsten leaned into his chest, hiccups disrupting her panting breaths, her arm curling around his waist. "Daddy."  
  
One single word was enough.  
  
Enough to break his composure completely and Spike’s tears fell indiscriminately on the tangled gold hair mingled on his chest.  
  
William’s soft cries broke the silence, which had gone from grief to a sad sort of acceptance, stirring his parents to movement. Buffy wiped her tears with the heel of her hand, while Kirsten gulped down a full glass of orange juice. Spike moved swiftly into the living room, where William was crying in his cradle. Lifting the tiny infant in his arms, Spike reached for his pacifier, only stopping when Buffy appeared next to him.   
  
She leaned against his arm, running her hand down William’s face, deliberately not looking at the man standing next to her. "I don’t anymore. Just so you know."  
  
He stilled for a moment, then continued rubbing his hand over William’s back. He knew exactly what she was referring to, didn’t need for her to elaborate on it. A low rumble started in his chest and William thumped his tiny fist, stopping his cries to listen to his father.   
  
"Good to know," was all he said to her. After another moment, Spike slipped his arm around her waist, drawing her close so that her head rested next to William’s. "Blamed m’self enough."  
  
"I think maybe it wasn’t either of us. Or maybe it was both of us." Buffy’s hand covered Spike’s where it rested on William’s back and he turned his to entwine their fingers.  
  
"Mmm." He didn’t add anything, didn’t disagree, just let her comment sit there between them, waiting for whatever else she might say. For once, he didn’t have that long a wait, Buffy finally giving in to her emotions and vocalizing them.  
  
"Or maybe it was just something we couldn’t stop. I never blamed the right people and took it all out on you." Her voice dropped to a bare whisper, a mere breath of sound wafting across his chest and Will’s downy cheek. "I’m so sorry."  
  
"Nothin’ to be sorry for, pet, was just as angry as you were. Took it all out on you. Hated you as much as I still loved you."  
  
A sad sort of laugh escaped her and Buffy moved to face him. "Thought so." She ducked her head, biting her lower lip. After a moment, she shook her head, staring at William’s face, her eyes focused on the baby. "Kinda makes us even."  
  
For a long moment everything stopped. The air between them pulsed with life, with emotions that hadn’t been expressed in years. Spike’s eyes traveled over her face, until they landed on her bright green eyes. That look was back; the one she’d given him this afternoon. He couldn’t decipher it then, but now he recognized it for what it truly was. Guarded hope.  
  
Something he hadn’t glimpsed in her eyes for a long time, since before the twins were born. Seeing that look now sparked something in him, something he’d long repressed. His eyes flared with golden lights when Buffy finally looked up at him.   
  
Words tumbled from his mouth before he could censor them. "God help me, Buffy, there’s been only you. You’re everythin’ ‘ve ever wanted. The only one. I love you."  
  
Buffy’s hand reached up, her fingers drifting over his lips as he spoke. "I know."   
  
Their eyes caught and held when Spike pursed his lips and kissed her fingertips. "My heart is yours, pet. Always has been, always will be."  
  
"I know, Spike." Tears flooded her eyes and Buffy smiled. "You’ve got mine too."  
  
She melted into this chest as he pulled her close, his mouth descending on hers.  
  
Kirsten paused on the stairs, watching them kiss, William cradled protectively between them. _I gotta stop doing this, watching them like this. So not my business. So, why can’t I stop?_ She realized as she stood there, that this was a rare moment she was a silent witness to. Her parents caught in a tender moment. It brought home to her how much had gone wrong between them.  
  
She’d seen first hand how much Buffy needed and loved Spike. That night she’d gone back to… that was the night her mother was talking about, when Spike had nearly died. So she had made a difference. Not only had she given Dawn more time, but she’d given her parents a chance also.  
  
Determination flooded through her. _I’ve done it before. No reason why I can’t do it again._  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
  
  
Kirsten lagged behind the rest of them as they trudged off to school. Taryn and Annie had already been left at the gates of Wilkins Elementary, while the remainder headed straight for Sunnydale High School, or, as Jake liked to call it – Hellmouth Central. Jake and Robbie were up ahead, their low voices talking about something animatedly. Ciara and Connor were in the middle, trying not to appear single-mindedly interested in each other. Kirsten tried keeping a straight face, but it was almost impossible. They were actually kind of funny to watch. Connor kept stealing awkward glances, which Kirsten thought was hilarious, because Ciara did the same.  
  
With one last look at them, she slowed, watching them head off toward school. She needed to do this, needed to fix this, and she was the only one that could.   
  
Veering off at the entrance to Restfield, Kirsten headed straight for the crypt. It took her only a few moments, and she had everything set up the same way Annie had the day before, marking the triangle and lighting the candles. Kirsten wasn’t entirely certain how much it would help her except for her focus, so she lit them anyway.  
  
Only scant moments had passed and she sat down in the middle of the triangle, focusing her attention on Dawn.  
  
Her heart beat slowed, her breathing deepened.  
  
With a final thought for Robbie, Kirsten pitched forward and disappeared.  
  



	4. As far away as one minute

**_Four.  As far away as one minute_**  
  
 ** _Time goes, you say?  Ah no!_**  
 ** _Alas, Time stays, we go._**  
 ** _Henry Austin Dobson_**  
  
 ** _Darn the wheel of the world!_**  
 ** _Why must it continually turn over?_**  
 ** _Where is the reverse gear?_**  
 ** _Jack London_**  
  
 ** _Time is the longest distance between two places._**  
 ** _Tennessee Williams_**  
  
 ** _All my possessions for a moment of time._**  
 ** _Elizabeth I, 1533 - 1603_**  
  
 ** _Nothing is as far away as one minute ago._**  
 ** _Jim Bishop_**  
  
  
The first inkling any of them had was Robbie’s choked off exclamation and his sudden drop to his knees, hands covering his eyes.  Connor raced forward, his speed making up for his inattention, and he caught Robbie before Jake had even reacted.   His hands cradled Robbie’s head and Connor whipped his head around, looking for Kirsten, though he’d already guessed he wasn’t going to find her in the vicinity.  _Damned girl. . . what the fuck is she thinking?_  
  
Even as he asked himself, he knew what Kirsten had been thinking.  Didn’t need Robbie’s groans of pain to tell him she’d done it again. Only this time, she’d done it on her own, without any of them to act as an anchor, holding her essence to this time.  Turning wild eyes to his companions, he said, “Jake, get his legs.  Cee, would you take care of the backpacks?”  
  
“Connor?”  Ciara looked around, catching on before her brother who was missing.  “Where’s Kirsten?”  
  
“Probably at the crypt.  Or, probably not at the crypt.  I dunno where the fuck she is.” He practically growled his answer, his worry feeding his temper as he muttered the last bit under his breath.  
  
“Are you kidding me?”  Jake looked around, his dark eyes settling on his sister.  He shook his head, able to clearly understand what she was thinking and feeling.  He grabbed Robbie’s legs, holding him steady while Connor got to his feet and slung his brother’s arm over his shoulder and started off in the opposite direction.  “Dude, where are we going now?”  
  
“Can’t very well go to school now, can we?” was Connor’s sarcastic query.  
  
Jake sighed.  “No, I guess not.”  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
  
She could scarcely comprehend what she was seeing.  There, fighting for her life and the life of the guy next to her was her sister Dawn.  _Holy shit. . ._   
  
Kirsten’s preternatural hearing allowed her to hear the brief conversation between Dawn and the boy, and tears blurred her eyes when he said “I love you, Dawnie.”  
  
When Dawn replied, Kirsten moved, trying to creep closer without catching the vampire’s attention.  She didn’t recognize him, though from what her mother had told her, this was Angelus.  He was big, bigger than her father, and broad.  His ridges and brows were prominent, until the boy began taunting him.  Kirsten was shaking her head, even as she moved closer. _Is he insane? Does he even know what the hell he’s facing?_  
  
Before she had a chance to react, Angelus was roaring and then in a blur of movement, he’d struck, ripping out the boy’s throat.  Dawn screamed, galvanizing Kirsten into action.   
  
_Dammit.  Should have come sooner.  Dammit!  What’s his name? She told me, and I don’t. . .   Casey.  His name is Casey.  Oh, God, this isn’t right._  
  
Her inaction had probably contributed to the boy’s death, though at the moment she didn’t have time to wallow in regret.  Angelus was moving toward Dawn and Kirsten wasn’t going to allow that.  Putting on an inhuman burst of speed, Kirsten slammed into Angel’s legs as Spike unleashed a blow that sent the other vampire ass over teacup, rolling him over Kirsten’s bowed back.  Instinctively falling into a rhythm with her father, Kirsten and Spike traded off, each of them battling an enraged Angelus.   
  
Angel, not holding back, lifted Kirsten off the ground and heaved her in the air, toward a tree.  Using her own momentum, Kirsten unfurled her legs, running up the tree trunk.  She pushed off, back flipping up and over the two vampires.  As she was sailing over them, Kirsten couldn’t help the internal snicker.  _Hah, take that you overgrown bat!_  
  
Spinning, Kirsten landed facing them, noting with a twinge of regret that her father hadn’t taken advantage of the moment and clocked the other vampire.  She shook her head, wondering how come he hadn’t.  The swift realization that her father didn’t know what she was capable of in this time struck and Kirsten realized she was being just a little unrealistic.   
  
“C’mon, boy, this the best you’ve got?”  Angel taunted him, but a grim-faced Spike ignored him, moving in to throw a punch at the bigger vampire.   
  
Kirsten snuck in, slamming her small fists into Angelus’ ribs, smirking when she felt them give.  He reacted quickly, sweeping his arm out, his big fist slamming into the side of her head and knocking her aside.  Kirsten tumbled wildly, rolling over the grass, coming to a stop just beside Spike’s discarded sword.  Her head was swimming, but she pulled herself to her feet in time to hear Spike taunting the other vampire.  
  
“C’mon, gramps.  Not fighting little kiddies now, got the real thing.”  
  
Kirsten hovered just beyond the two, watching them both warily, her hand wrapped around the hilt of the sword.  Without conscious thought, she had taken up a position between the vampires and the others as a secondary line of defense in case Angelus got past Spike.    
  
Angelus took a wild swing at Spike, who ducked out of the path of his fist and then struck back at Angelus.   The distinctive sound of her father’s chuckle filled the air when the dark-haired vampire roared out in pain as his back hit the tree.    
  
Buffy’s quavering voice filled the silence after the echo of Angelus’ roar died away, and both Kirsten and Spike reacted to it.  She called out to them again, and Spike whirled on his heel, moving toward where Buffy and Dawn were huddled over the still form of Dawn’s boyfriend.  Kirsten stared at the scene, listening to Dawn’s keening cries and it took her long moments to recognize the other man.  

  
_Uncle Wesley?  When did he get here?  How did he . . . when . . ._    
  
Dragged from her thoughts when Spike’s hand clamped down on her forearm, Kirsten nearly jumped out of her skin when he snarled, “C’mon, you.  Need some answers.”   
  
He pulled her along after him, squatting down so he could gather Dawn into his arms.  
  
“Boy’s gone.  Nothing to be done for him.”  
  
Kirsten watched while Spike easily lifted Dawn’s semi-conscious form, cradling her against his chest.   “Gotta get her to hospital.”  
  
He looked around, his eyes focusing on her, and Kirsten knew he was going to start the questioning.  She only hoped he wouldn’t dig too far; push her to reveal things she just wasn’t prepared to at this moment.  _Maybe I should have thought this out a little better. . ._   
  
“Who’re you  pet?”  
  
It was clear, from his tone of voice, that Spike wasn’t ready to load up the welcome wagon, but he also wasn’t going to shut her out.  He’d seen her fight, saw her land a few blows on Angelus, and was willing to wait for her explanation before he reacted.  
  
“My name’s Kirsten. “ She wouldn’t look at him, couldn’t.  He’d always had an uncanny ability to get to the truth, and it was doubled with all of them.  Spike could smell a lie at thirty paces, or at least that’s what Connor had always jokingly said.  It stood to reason he’d know right now if she tried to lie to him.  So instead, Kirsten gave him as much of the truth as she dared.  
  
“Where did you learn those moves?”  Buffy, on the other hand, was curious and the speculation was clear in her voice.    
  
Kirsten didn’t know what to say.   _Sure, I’ll just drop that bombshell. . . ‘Hi, my name’s Kirsten and I’m your daughter.  Yeah.  That’s right.  Nope, haven’t been born yet, and you taught me everything I know’. . ._ “Ah. . . my dad.   He’s a . . . fight instructor.”    
  
Spike was about to question her further when Dawn stirred.  “Conversation’s not done, pet.  Don’t disappear on us either.”  
  
The familiar threat was there and Kirsten, knowing she was busted, reacted instinctively and just replied, “Yes, sir.”  
  
 _Oh damn, I’m so gonna get my ass handed to me for this.  What the hell was I thinking?  That I could swoop in and save Dawn and sneak away without anyone catching me?  My luck so doesn’t run that way.  And I should have known, because hey, they caught me the first time.  Oh yeah, this is so not gonna be fun.  I’m such a lousy liar. . ._   
  
Kirsten hefted the sword over her shoulders, resting both hands on the edges, looking more like a prisoner heading to the gallows than a teenaged girl trailing after her parents.  _I am so screwed. . ._  
  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
  
The whole way to the hospital, and while Wesley paced the floors, waiting for both word of Dawn and someone else to arrive, Kirsten desperately tried coming up with ways to explain away her presence without giving too much away.  And nothing she came up with was good enough to please her.  None of the hundred different scenarios were plausible – not when the truth was so damn farfetched to begin with.  They didn’t know about Connor’s more than human strength, about Robbie’s speed or Annie’s magical talents. . . they didn’t know about any of that.  _Hell, they don’t even know about me, how the hell could I explain siblings?_   
  
Wesley came back inside.  He looked around and she could see him muttering to himself under his breath, and she wondered what that was all about.  He rarely did that, but then again, she hardly saw him anymore, since he spent most of his time in Los Angeles with her father.  But it was good to know they’d been friends since before she was born.  Or it looked that way, at least.  
  
He sat down heavily in one of the uncomfortable chairs, his long legs bunched up and his shoulders hunched over so that the looked like a very uncomfortable grasshopper or daddy long-legs, and Kirsten decided she’d be better off sticking close to him, even if she dare not tell him who she was.  “Hey.”  
  
Jumping slightly at her unexpected appearance, Wesley glanced down at her.  “I thought you’d run out.”    
  
“Spike said not to go.”  She shrugged, as if that explained it all.  Which it did, though he wouldn’t understand how much.  Her parents, despite not being quite prepared for the parental gig, had been fairly strict with them, Spike especially.  He suffered no lip, no sass, and he definitely punished them whenever he felt they needed it.  _Which wasn’t all that often, but boy. . ._ Kirsten shook those thoughts away, because she knew she was going to be in for it the second she was busted. . . and the longer she stayed here, the lower her odds got.  
  
Wesley watched her for a few moments, clearly trying to work out something in his head.  His voice startled her out of her own thoughts. “How well do you know Spike?”  
  
“I, um. .  I know him through Dawn.”  That was as good an answer as any she could really give him, because Kirsten knew if she said too much, there were going to be far too many questions, ones she didn’t want to have to answer – ever, and especially not to Wesley.  
  
Apparently that response had been enough for Wesley, at least at this moment, because his attention was diverted by a commotion from outside.  When he got to his feet, Kirsten did the same, taking her cues from him.  
  
Nurses and a couple of EMTs wheeled a covered gurney in and behind it, in the commotion, an older man and a much younger and prettier woman snuck inside with a baby  The concern on the older man’s face was heavy and he strode quickly to the pair.  “Is that– ?”  
  
“Probably Dawn’s boyfriend.  He didn’t make it.”  Wesley motioned for the woman to step out of the way of a passing intern and moved them further away from curious on-lookers.  Waiting until they were in a small alcove, Wesley continued.  “We didn’t get there soon enough.  It was Angel.  Dawn’s inside with Spike and Buffy.  Her injuries appear superficial, but . . ”   He paused again, blew out a deep breath and said, “I’m hoping that’s all.  We haven’t heard anything yet.”  
  
Kirsten stared at the newcomer her eyes wide and disbelief flooding the changeable orbs.  _No way!  Would you look at Pop!  He’s . . . that can’t be him.  No way._ She looked closer and gulped.  _Yup, yup, that’s him.  Holy crapola.  I’m doomed.  Coz if that’s Pop, then. . ._ She flipped her gaze to the woman.  _Oh man. . . shit.  Shit!  That’s Anya!_ Mentally banging her head against the wall, Kirsten clamped her jaw shut, stifling the scream of frustration from emerging from her lips.  _Double shit!_  
  
“Oh, dear God.”  Giles looked around, searching the emergency room for someone who might be in charge and able to give him some answers.  Spying Kirsten for the first time, he asked, “Who is this?”  
  
Kirsten shrank away, trying to make herself invisible, knowing it was futile even as she did so.  Wesley leaned closer, hoping Kirsten couldn’t overhear him.  “She’s a friend of Dawn’s.  I believe she’s a potential.  She showed up in time to help with Angelus.”  
  
Giles eyed her speculatively, his lips firm and his eyes unflinching.  Kirsten watched him warily as he eyed her, knowing very shortly his endless questioning would start.  And she wasn’t sure she could withstand him.  The man she considered her grandfather could be very relentless, she’d seen him in action more than once with some of the pitiful slayers the Council had sent to Sunnydale.  But he had always been her Pop, and he’d never once turned those gimlet eyes on her – until now.  Now, she was the one in the hot-seat, the unproven potential who, at least in his eyes, didn’t belong and wouldn’t ever.  Cannon fodder or worse, a barely trained little girl that the Council was throwing to the wolves.  Kirsten hated that look in his eyes.  Didn’t like it being directed her way.  
  
Wishing she could prove to him somehow that she more than belonged, had more right than any of those other potentials or slayers sent to him, Kirsten had to force herself to keep her mouth shut.  _I’m not gonna do it. . . I can’t do it._  
  
“Kirsten?  I’m Rupert Giles.”  He held out his hand, and Kirsten took it, resisting the urge to hug him.   
  
“Hi.”  His eyes scanned over her petite form, peering at her intently over the top of his glasses.  She got wigged, knowing he was assessing her not as a loving grandfather, but as a stern, forbidding Watcher.   
  
“Wesley tells me you know Dawn.  Is there a reason why you’re here?”  
  
“Um.  Yeah.”  Scrambling for an answer that wouldn’t set off too many alarms, although she knew that was almost impossible, Kirsten stuttered a bit from nervousness.  “I, ah. . . yeah.”  _Oh, hey, word girl, get it together._  
  
Giles just waited patiently, one eyebrow raised in question.    
  
“Um.  I’m a potential.”  She whispered it, so that he barely heard her, though Giles’ stance loosened a bit, and he pulled her away from the others, so they could speak without any interruptions.  
  
“Go on, please.”  He wasn’t as forbidding, but she knew she was going to have to really come up with something good.  Trying to remember everything she’d told Dawn, Kirsten figured that was as good a story as any.  
  
So she told him.  
  
When she was finished, he sat down in one of the chairs, rubbing his hands across his eyes.  “Well.  . . I shall have to meet your father.  I’d like you to start training with me, if you don’t mind.”    
  
 _Huh.  That was easier than I expected._   Not realizing she had blurted that out loud, she jumped when Giles responded, “Yes, well I suppose it rather was.  You remind me a bit of Buffy in her younger days.”  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
Four hours and Robbie was still out cold.  Connor was beginning to think maybe keeping this new talent of Kirsten’s a secret wasn’t such a good idea.  None of the parentals knew, and she’d been gone a long time.  Her first trip back at least had someone else at the helm, but Annie was still in school and she wouldn’t be out for another two hours.  Six hours was too long.  Hell, he was beginning to think an hour might be too long.  They had no idea of the consequences of her actions, nor were they sure she was safe.  
  
Connor was pacing from one end of the crypt to another, stalking through the darkened stone room in much the way his father would.  He was contemplating going back home to get him when a groan and rustling came from the still form of his unconscious brother.  In a flash, Connor was at his side, and so was Ciara.  Robbie groaned again, rolling over onto his back.  He moved slowly, as if every muscle ached and without opening his eyes, he groggily asked, “How long was I out?”  
  
“Almost four hours.  How do you feel?”  Connor let Ciara do the talking, since with the release of the tense worry about Robbie, he could feel his temper flaring.  
  
“Like shit.  What the fuck happened?”  
  
Ciara looked over at Connor, who had resumed his restless pacing, then answered him.  “We think Kirsten went back again.”  
  
“Did she say anything to you about this?”  Connor stopped at the end of the sarcophagus, his arms folded over his chest.  “Did she?”  
  
“Connor.”  Ciara’s voice held a warning that he chose to ignore.  
  
“Robbie.  Did she say anything to you about this?”  He moved closer, coming to stand next to where Robbie’s head rested on the stone.  
  
“No.  Asshole.”  He rolled onto his side, curling into a ball, his hands tucked between his bent legs.  “I’m cold.”  
  
Ciara took off her jacket, laying it over his shivering form.  “Lemme see if we left anything here yesterday.”  
  
Connor stared down at the back of Robbie’s head, wondering if there was anything they could do about this.  “Can you. . .”   When all Robbie did was huddle in on himself more, Connor realized he needed to apologize.  “Sorry, bro.  I’m worried about this.”  
  
“Yeah, well, you aren’t the one who feels like shit, so lay off.”  Robbie didn’t move, barely acknowledging when Connor threw his own jacket over him.  “I dunno what the hell she was thinking.  She never said a fucking word.”  
  
Even Jake winced at the anger in Robbie’s tone of voice, and he shared a look with his twin, then posed his own question.  “Ah, you know, she is your twin.  So maybe you can feel her?”  
  
Robbie groaned again, shuddering visibly under the pile of jackets.  “Yeah.  Sure.  Just gimme a minute.”  
  
Ciara had been searching the crypt for supplies, and she came up empty.  Putting her hands on her hips, she looked at the two able-bodied boys.  “Why don’t you guys go get stuff.  Blankets, food, water, you know, stuff we’re gonna need.”  She gently kicked her brother in the shin, getting him moving.  “Coz if we’re gonna keep using this spot, we need to stock up on supplies.”  
  
Jake swiped at her foot from his position on the floor, mock growling at her.  “Since when did you get all bossy bint?”  
  
“Since no one else is being practical, I guess that’s my job.”  She kicked him again, this time though, it was more of a push.  “Go on.  And don’t be stupid and go to Revello.  Spike’s probably asleep on the couch.”  
  
Jake got to his feet, heading toward the door.  “Maybe I’ll just head over to Clem’s.  See what I can scrounge from him.”   
  
Ciara was already shaking her head.  “No.  You know he can’t keep a secret to save his life.  He’ll spill the first time anyone asks him.”  One glower from Spike and Clem would sing like a wrinkled canary.  “You’re better off going home.”  Checking her watch, she remarked, “Mom’s at work, and Dad was leaving for the gigs in Seattle at eleven, so it should be okay.”   
  
Throwing a look at Jake, Ciara inclined her head toward Connor.  Picking up on her unspoken remark, he tossed a wadded up ball of notebook paper at the taller teen’s head.  “Dude, c’mon.  Ciara will watch out for him.”  
  
Instead of answering, Connor leaned down to look closer at Robbie.  “You okay?”  
  
“Yeah.  I’m fine.  Go with Jake.”  He opened his eyes, looking at his older brother.  “I’ll be better by the time you get back.”  
  
“All right.  Don’t do anything stupid.”  
  
With a last look at Ciara, Connor and Jake slipped out the door.  
  



	5. Call back yesterday

**_Chapter Five.   Call back yesterday_**  
  
  
 ** _Time is a sort of river of passing events,_**  
 ** _and strong is its current;_**  
 ** _no sooner is a thing brought to sight than it is swept by_**  
 ** _and another takes its place,_**  
 ** _and this too will be swept away._**  
 ** _Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, iv. 43._**  
  
 ** _O, call back yesterday, bid time return!_**  
 ** _King Richard II. Act iii. Sc. 2._**  
  
  
 ** _One life,—a little gleam of time between two Eternities._**  
 ** _Thomas Carlyle, Heroes and Hero-Worship. The Hero as a Man of Letters_**  
  
  
 ** _Backward, turn backward, O Time, in your flight!_**  
 ** _Make me a child again, just for to-night!_**  
 ** _Elizabeth Akers Allen, Rock me to sleep_**  
  
  
 ** _Wait, thou child of hope, for Time shall teach thee all things._**  
 ** _Martin Farquhar Tupper, Of Good in Things evil_**  
  
  
  
 _I remind him of Mom. Huh. How cool is that?_ Kirsten slumped down in her seat, fighting a sudden bout of fatigue, which was tempered by this weird jittery feeling that she couldn’t shake. _Need to move around, do something._  
  
They were all sitting around while waiting for some news of Dawn, Anya was holding the baby – _Connor – and boy is it weird thinking about that!_ – while she and Giles were talking animatedly out of the range of her hearing and Wesley was flipping through an old magazine.  
  
Out of the corner of her eye, Kirsten spied a dark haired woman stride through the ER doors, heading straight for the reception area. She slapped both hands down on the counter, gaining the attention of the nurse stationed there and apparently Wesley’s as well.  
  
He jumped to his feet, heading straight for the woman. Kirsten couldn’t hear what they were saying, but evidently Giles knew who she was, because he was on his feet faster than Wesley had been. “Faith? How on earth? How in God’s name did you escape?”  
  
“Giles!”  
  
“Rupert!”  
  
The shouted exclamations from the two brunettes caught Giles up short, and he threw them both an apologetic look. He scrambled to cover up his blunder by almost shouting, “Customs! Goodness, that was quick.”  
  
Kirsten nearly laughed at the look on his face, but catching the pursed lips of the newcomer, she thought better of it. Instead, she found herself hovering at his side, watching the adults interacting.  
  
“Is this really Faith? The other slayer?” Anya’s heated whispers hissed into the tense silence and she clearly was upset. “Why is she here? What’s going on, Giles?”   
  
“Yes.” Was all the answer she got.  
  
The dark-haired girl folded her arms over her chest, her stance both belligerent and defensive at the same time. “Look, I’m here, so that should be enough.” Pointing at the infant Anya was holding up to her shoulder, she asked pointedly, “Who is this?”  
  
Anya glared at her and angled her body away, protecting Connor from Faith. “Giles?”   
  
Faith just stared back, waiting for an answer, her face set and eyes hard.   
  
Kirsten looked from one of the older females to the other, her eyes wide with surprise. _So this is Faith._ All the stories she’d heard over the years – and only a few of them from her mother – flitted about her head. Faith was the hard one, the Slayer after her mother who spent years in prison, only to escape when some demon attacked Los Angeles, blotting out the sun. She’d died, not that long after that, though Kirsten didn’t know all the details. Despite the fatigue and the lines of anger bracketing her wide mouth, and the obviously borrowed clothes, Faith was just as . . . _Well, it’s a damn good thing Robbie isn’t here, because he’d be drooling over her boobs._  
  
Wesley grabbed Faith’s shoulder, pulling her away from Anya. Kirsten turned her head to watch them more closely. It was funny listening to Anya whispering to Giles about Faith and how dangerous she was when in fact Faith looked more tired than dangerous.  
  
The four adults were all lost in their own conversations, none of them paying attention, when a furtive moment by the doors caught her attention. “Giles?” Kirsten whispered softly, trying to get his attention without looking like she was getting his attention. “Giles. There’s a vamp by the door.”  
  
“What? Where?” Giles peered over his glasses, then adjusted them on his face to see more clearly. Keeping his deceptive pose and without moving away from Anya, he nodded to Kirsten. “Keep an eye on him. I’m going to alert Wesley and see if I can find out how soon we’ll be out of here.”  
  
With that he patted Anya on the arm, moving past Wesley and Faith. He caught the taller man’s eye and motioned his head toward the doors, mouthing ‘vamp’ while walking to the desk. “Excuse me nurse, is there any information on Dawn Summers’ condition?”  
  
The attendant looked up, then pressed a button on her computer screen. Without removing her eyes from the screen, she said, “She’s still in examining room ten. I have nothing more on her status.”  
  
“Room ten? Thank you.” He stepped away from the counter, turning his back on the nurse’s station. “She’s in room ten.”  
  
“I’ll go.” Anya stood up, preparing to take the baby out of the path of any possible fighting.   
  
Giles held her back for a moment, whispering, “Let Spike know we have visitors.”  
  
Her smile was bright, even though it never reached her eyes. Anya gathered up the baby’s bag and headed directly for the rooms. Kirsten had no idea what Anya did, because suddenly Connor was howling and the security guard who had stopped her waved her through after Anya said, “Sorry. His mother is in the back and he needs to nurse.”  
  
With a bright and disarming smile, she sailed right past the man and on into the back.  
  
And just like that, Kirsten knew they were in for it.  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
  
Even with the addition of Connor’s jacket, Robbie was still shaking and his teeth were chattering, so Ciara knew something had to be done. Climbing up onto the sarcophagus and squirming up behind him, she got as close as she could and put her arm around his waist. She supposed it didn’t help much, being laid out on a cold marble surface, except there was nothing else but the stone flooring, so she figured this was the lesser of all evils.  
  
Robbie clamped his arm around the one she’d slung over his waist, holding on hard as the shaking increased. “This shit sucks ass. Why the _hell_ did she not tell me?”  
  
“I dunno, Rob. Maybe she was afraid we’d talk her out of it.” Ciara shrugged, tucking her legs up behind Robbie’s bent ones. “She probably had a good reason.”  
  
“Last night she said something just before we went to bed.” He tried sitting up, then thought better of it. “Said that she’d almost made it right. That she’d made a difference, though not enough of one. Something about Dawn making it through the first attack, but not the second.”  
  
Ciara was silent, waiting to see if he had anything else to say. When he didn’t add anything, she exhaled sharply. “You know she wouldn’t have done it . . . Kirsten isn’t stupid, you know. She’d only go back again if it was important.”  
  
“Yeah. I know.”  
  
After another weighty silence, Ciara asked him, “Do you think . . . can you feel her?”  
  
This time it was Robbie who sighed deeply. “I’m still pretty knackered. Maybe after I get something to eat. I’ll try then.”   
  
“Okay.” Ciara hugged him then, saying, “Maybe you should try and sleep.”  
  
“Yeah. Wake me up when they get back.” Robbie rolled over, enclosing Ciara in his arms. “It’s warmer this way.”  
  
She fit right under his chin, his chest tight up against her. Ciara knew it was only for the warmth and comfort he needed, and she’d never really thought of Robbie as a potential boyfriend, but at the moment it felt too good to pass up. So she eased into his hold and let sleep claim them both.  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
  
The instant Anya was safely beyond the swinging doors, Faith sauntered past where the vampire was standing, her body language designed to entice. Predictably, the vampire followed her, not even bothering to be stealthy. She headed off down a dark hallway parallel to the emergency examining rooms, not bothering to hide her intentions. A second and then third vampire slithered through the main ER doors. This time, both Wesley and Giles spotted them the same moment Kirsten did.  
  
Giles leaned down to Kirsten, speaking very softly. “Have you fought vampires before?”  
  
“Yup.” She popped the end of the word, something she’d learned from her mother, and he smiled at her.   
  
“Good. Here’s your chance to prove to me how well your father’s been training you.”  
  
“Cool. We gonna do this together?”   
  
She looked up at him, and Giles was again struck by how much she reminded him of Buffy. That eager expression was one he hadn’t seen on Buffy’s face for a very long time, though he remembered it well. His lips curled up in a slight smile and he nodded, lifting his eyes to silently communicate with Wesley. “Shall we?”  
  
Kirsten swallowed, then got to her feet.  _Here, vampy, vampy. . . if Daddy could only see me now!_ She smiled, one that didn’t reach her eyes. If either Giles or Wesley had seen it, they would have been amazed because her smirk was eerily identical to Spike’s.    
  
Kirsten followed Faith’s footsteps. She knew she couldn’t possibly duplicate the older woman’s smoldering _come and get me pose_ , but she didn’t care. Kirsten knew from firsthand experience that vampires constantly underestimated her, and just as frequently mistook her for a lost waif. Her father’s voice echoed in her head as she walked past the doors, _“Whatever you use to lure the vamps, pet, needs to work every time, no matter how often you bloody well use it.”_ Kirsten fought the urge to pump her fist and crow when both new vampires followed her down the hallway.  
  
 _Boy, they really are dumb._  
  
Though she didn’t know it, Wesley and Giles brought up the rear of their bizarre little parade, trailing after the girls and their prey. Up ahead, in an alcove area, Kirsten heard the first sounds of fighting, and she whirled on the two behind her. Snapping a kick at the closest one, she flipped easily over his head. She was grateful for being so compact when there wasn’t a whole lot of room, since she could still maneuver, unlike some of her opponents.   
  
She easily fell into the rhythm of the fight, working around the fact she had no weapons other than her fists and two unknown allies. Wesley and Giles worked well together, although she had a feeling Giles wasn’t as actively engaged as Wesley was. He kept pausing from the fight, and it took her a few moments to realize he was judging her abilities.  
  
Without consciously thinking about it, Kirsten stepped up her fight, whirling between the two vampires, showing off for him. All thought slowed. She was moving completely on training and instinct, and after a few moments, Wesley also stepped back, allowing her to go it alone. He disappeared, moving off to find a stake of some kind so the girls could dispatch the vampires. Kirsten’s fight spilled over into Faith’s and for a few moments the two girls fought awkwardly, barely evading each other’s blows, until something clicked between the two and they began working as a single unit. Giles watched them closely, his eyes never wavering, assessing both of them.  
  
It was clear, to his eye, that Faith had only lost a step or two during her incarceration, though it wouldn’t take her long to make up for lost time. Kirsten, however, seemed to thrive whenever she had someone fighting alongside her, getting better as she innately matched herself to Faith’s style.  
  
Wesley came back just as Faith pinned one of their opponents by the throat and he called her name, tossing her the stake. The vampire exploded, leaving only two. The girls squared off, no longer fighting together, and in the fracas, Giles got caught up in the fisticuffs. His glasses were knocked askew and he pushed off, practically tossing the vampire at Kirsten, who’d gotten a second makeshift stake from Wesley. He too, met the same fate as the other, but from out of nowhere, another vampire attacked Wesley.   
  
Hearing a familiar growl, Kirsten looked up in time to see her father go down in a tangle of limbs with Wesley and the latest vampire. Spike jumped up quickly, then whirled around to nail his assailant with a left hook. Kirsten helped Wesley to his feet, handing him the stake and ducking out of the way as the vampire reeled back. His arms pinwheeled as he stumbled into Wesley, who shoved him back at Spike. He kicked up catching the vamp across the face and giving Wesley time to stake it.  
  
When the dust settled, Spike shared a pointed look with Giles over Kirsten’s head, then moved past Wesley to lean against the doorframe. He addressed Faith, who was still fighting with the last vampire. “Shouldn’t play with the locals, pet, they get a bit tetchy about it.”  
  
“You know me. Gotta get my groove on anyway I can.” Faith tossed the vamp over her shoulder, letting him roll along the floor before she looked over at Spike.  
  
“Faith.” He nodded at her, his voice and face expressionless.  
  
She returned the greeting, just as devoid of emotion. “Spike.”  
  
Kirsten could feel the chill in the air, and she knew there was more to this moment than either of the adults would ever tell her. She didn’t know her father had known Faith before she got out of jail, but it was very obvious he did. It wasn’t hard to tell, either, that he wasn’t exactly comfortable with her being around. Kirsten just didn’t know why.  
  
He folded his arms over his chest, his voice deceptively casual. “Just stopping by for a visit?”  
  
“Nah.” The vamp came at her, charging wildly, and Faith sidestepped him. “Got a feeling I might be needed.”  
  
“Could be. . . Might not find so warm a welcome.” He tossed her a stake, waiting for her next move.  
  
“Goes both ways. Lots of hard feelings all around.” Faith took the next opening, brutally ramming the stake into the vampire’s chest. “Had some time to think. . . maybe it’s time to let all that go. Start over again.”  
  
Kirsten looked over as someone came to stand beside her, and smiled when she realized it was her mother. Buffy didn’t return her smile, just stared at the scene in front of her with a grim expression, her face pinched and drawn. She stepped up behind Spike, her body mostly hidden by his, until Faith turned around and froze.  
  
Neither woman spoke for long moments.   
  
_Oh, yeah, there’s way more going on here than I know about. Why is Mom acting like that? Haven’t seen her this pissed in a long time. Just what the hell did this Faith chick do?_  
  
And in the next instant, Kirsten had something of an answer.  
  
In the coldest tone of voice she’d ever heard her mother use came the words, “You’re supposed to be in prison.”  
  
“Was there until a few hours ago.” Faith stared her mother down, not backing down from the obvious display of Buffy’s controlled temper.  
  
“Why are you here?” _Ouch_. Even Kirsten flinched, feeling the shards of ice winging their way toward the dark haired slayer. _Obviously, Mom doesn’t like Faith at all. Why is she here, then?_  
  
“Buffy? We should continue this discussion in a safer location. Both Dawn and Connor should be in their own beds.” Giles voice broke into the non-conversation, motioning over his shoulder as he did so.  
  
Neither of the slayers reacted or even moved, the tense silence continuing until Spike – _it is so weird thinking of them this way_ – stepped up close to Buffy, saying, “C’mon kitten, let’s get the kiddies home.”  
  
“We’ll meet you back at the house.” With a pointed look at Faith, Wesley jerked his head and started off.  
  
Anya handed the once again mewling infant to Buffy, all the while muttering under her breath about unstable boyfriend-and-body-stealing people. Kirsten thought the way Anya was grumbling was funny until she actually listened to what she was saying. _Well, that’s one reason why Mom doesn’t like Faith. Or is there more to this story that I don’t know? Damn, there sure are a lot of secrets in this family._  
  
“Where’s Bit?” Spike watched Wesley and Faith, though addressing his words to Buffy.   
  
“She’s with the doctor, still.” They all trailed behind Buffy as she headed back toward the examining room. “He said Dawn would be okay to leave when I got back.”  
  
And she was. Tired and teary blue eyes barely opened at their reappearance, though Dawn smiled sadly when she saw Spike. Crossing the room to her in a couple of strides, Spike knelt down by the chair, his hands smoothing back Dawn’s disheveled hair. “Ready to go home?”  
  
Her lower lip quivered as fresh tears flooded her eyes. A soft sob broke from her and all Dawn could do was nod her head. She looked so broken and battered, Kirsten wondered how she was able to hold her head up. There were horrible bruises ringed around her throat and her eyebrow was covered with a bandage that drooped down, covering her eye. More bruises decorated her arms, and Dawn was shaking, barely holding it together.  
  
“Right then.” He started to get to his feet when another sob from Dawn caught his attention. Spike wrapped his arms around her, holding her against his chest, letting her tears fall.  
  
Giles tapped Buffy’s shoulder, whispering softly, “I’ll just go get the Jeep. Anya?”  
  
Just like that they were gone, leaving the small family behind.  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
  
This time, Jake remembered to bring food along with all the other stuff, including a big blanket. He dropped it over the sleeping pair, dumping one of the full backpacks beside the sarcophagus. Ciara had been right, neither of their parents were home, so the two boys had raided the pantry and linen closets, scrounging supplies.   
  
Connor had swung by the pizzeria, getting two large pepperoni and extra garlic pies, knowing that once Robbie woke up for good, he’d be hungry. And even if he wasn’t the rest of them would be.   
  
It was too early for the girls to be getting out of school, and more than likely both Spike and Buffy were taking advantage of their absence by napping. William’s very early arrival had left their parents with tapped resources since he had been six weeks in NICU, and then once they’d gotten him home, he required round the clock care. He was still so small, his head fitting in the palm of Kirsten’s hand, though he seemed to be getting stronger every day.  
  
In fact, since William had come home, they’d been spending more time at Crawford Street, easing the burden on the Summers household. He was getting to be a good baby though, hardly crying or fussing anymore, and Connor was actually glad he’d been born early. Though they had worried about him and Buffy in those first dangerous days, the fact that William’s birth brought Spike home made all the worry worth it. Connor had missed him and he knew everyone else did.   
  
He guessed that was why Kirsten had listened to Annie, because she missed him. Hell, as much as none of them wanted to admit it, Spike was the glue holding them all together. Without him, Buffy was only going through the motions, just barely holding on. Now that he was home, everything had changed, there was laughter in the house and they all just seemed more . . . _there_.  
  
He slumped down on the floor, sitting next to Jake, who was reading _The Tempest_. “Dude, you’re reading that again?”  
  
“Yeah. This time I have to.” Jake barely glanced over at him, ignoring the sarcasm in Connor’s voice.  
  
“For English?”  
  
“Yup. Have to read one other Shakespeare and write up a report. Your dad said he’d give me a hand with this one.” At Connor’s snicker of amusement, Jake lifted an eyebrow. “What?”  
  
“You do realize how dumb that is, right?” Connor started picking at the frayed knee of his jeans, loosening threads.  
  
Jake put the book down, his dark eyes intent on Connor’s face. “Huh? How is it dumb?”  
  
“Not that Dad doesn’t know Shakespeare, but . . . _The Tempest_? How many times have you read that one?”  
  
“Dunno.” Jake shrugged. “Couple of times.”  
  
“Right, dude, you are _always_ reading that one. Why didn’t you pick another?”  
  
“Well, I like this one. Might as well get credit for reading it.” He held up the battered copy, flipping through the pages. “Knock it off, dude, at least I don’t obsess over a woman old enough to be my mother.”  
  
“Hey! I do not.”  
  
“Oookay, so all those pictures of Kate Beckinsale in leather and fake fangs are just there because you like vampires.” Jake snickered when Connor got red in the face.  
  
They were both startled when Ciara’s voice wafted down from the sarcophagus. “Like you don’t drool over Scarlett Johansen?”  
  
“Can’t a guy get some peace and quiet? This is a cemetery, you know?” Robbie groaned, rolling over onto his back as Ciara jumped down from the marble slab.   
  
“You feeling any better?” Connor got to his feet, peering down at his younger brother. “You look like shit again.”  
  
“Thanks. I appreciate all your support and understanding.” Robbie hauled himself into a sitting position, scrubbing at his eyes. “Did you bring anything to drink?”  
  
Jake handed him a water bottle and a slice of pizza. “That good enough for you?”  
  
“Wow. You guys finally did something right.”  
  
Connor was shaking his head, “Yeah, yeah, pick on me now, bro, and that’ll be the last slice you get today.”  
  
Gulping down his water, Robbie shrugged. “Too hungry and beat to argue, jus’ gimme the food.”  
  
Connor handed over another slice, steadying Robbie’s shoulder when he drooped. He got up on the sarcophagus, angled so that Robbie could lean against him, motioning for Ciara to get him another slice. “Did you try and feel Kirstie?”  
  
“Yeah.” Robbie swallowed a mouthful, adding, “Yeah, she’s okay. Can’t get much more than that. And before you ask; I have no idea how much longer she’s gonna be.”  
  
This was not good news, and none of the others appeared thrilled with it. Robbie knew they were going to have to come up with some way to cover for Kirsten that would fool both sets of parents, which was nearly impossible to do.  
  
Robbie sighed wearily, grateful for Connor’s solid form supporting him. He had no idea what they were going to come up with, but it was a good thing they were all together.  
  



	6. Strive to set the crooked straight

_**Six.  Strive to set the crooked straight**_  
  
 _ **He that lacks time to mourn, lacks time to mend.**_  
 _ **Eternity mourns that. ’T is an ill cure**_  
 _ **For life’s worst ills, to have no time to feel them.**_  
 _ **Where sorrow’s held intrusive and turned out,**_  
 _ **There wisdom will not enter, nor true power,**_  
 _ **Nor aught that dignifies humanity.**_  
 _ **Sir Henry Taylor, Philip Van Artevelde. Part i. Act i. Sc. 5.**_  
  
 _ **Do nothing secretly;**_  
 _ **for Time sees and hears all things, and discloses all.**_  
 _ **Sophocles, Hipponous. Frag. 280.**_  
  
 _ **Dreamer of dreams, born out of my due time,**_  
 _ **Why should I strive to set the crooked straight?**_  
 _ **The idle singer of an empty day.**_  
 _ **William Morris, An Apology.**_  
  
  
“So, guys, what are we going to do? It’s almost time to get the girls from Wilkins.” Ciara looked at each of the boys in turn, wondering which one of them was going to have an answer.   
  
“Maybe we should just get them and go to our house?” Jake shifted, closing the worn copy of _The Tempest_ over his finger. “We can tell Mom that Kirsten’s got cheerleading practice.”  
  
Connor was shaking his head negatively, but Robbie agreed, saying, “That’s not a bad idea. Then we can tell our mom that she had to go to the library afterwards.”  
  
“And after that? What?” Connor was still not agreeing with them and it was only when Ciara added her own opinion that he began to relent.  
  
“Well, I’ll go to the library and act as cover.” She shrugged. “I have to write a report anyway, so this is a good excuse. And then you can go out, Rob, and tell your parents you’re meeting her for patrol.”  
  
“So we’d be covered until at least nine o’clock.” Jake finished her thought, getting to his feet.  
  
“Okay, say that works with the moms. You know Dad isn’t gonna buy that at all.” Connor looked from one sibling to the other, staring them down.   
  
“It’s not if you don’t sell it. Con, you have got to lighten up, just a little bit.” The redhead was shaking his head, staring at his best friend. “Your father is never gonna believe us if you don’t at least play along. Do you _want_ your sister to get in trouble?”  
  
It took him a long time to answer, too long for the comfort of the remaining teens. When he finally did speak, Connor’s voice was tired and sounding far older than his sixteen years. “I don’t know. What she did . . . ” He stared at the dust on the crypt floor, his attention not really on what he was looking at, “What she did was incredibly dangerous. We don’t really know what she goes through when she does this, do we? And what the hell do you think my dad’s gonna do when he finally finds out? You think he’s gonna be all happy?”  
  
He kicked the sarcophagus, scattering dust and other debris across the floor. “No. He’s not. He’s gonna be so freakin’ pissed that Kirsten’ll be lucky if she’s allowed to go to school on her own.”  
  
The other three shared looks, but Connor wasn’t done yet. “And when he finds out that we _all_ knew? He’s never gonna trust any of us ever again. _Ever_.”  
  
None of them dared refute him, because they all knew Connor was right.   
  
Spike was going to be beyond angry.  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
  
Kirsten hung back, watching all of them, afraid to disobey Spike and yet wary of intruding too much. Weird thing was that none of them seemed to remember her, not even Dawn, which was seriously strange. The need to run away, to go back to where she belonged was an urge she had to fight very hard against. _I wonder what they’re all doing. I hope to hell Robbie isn’t pissed at me._ At the same time, though, was the fear something else was about to go down and once more Dawn would be in danger.  
  
 _Just have to remember no more mistakes. Can’t tell anyone else. Dad’s gonna be so pissed when he catches me. Mom would understand, though. . . maybe. . ._   
  
Though there was the question of credibility and just how much she’d be believed if she actually told the truth.  
  
She trailed behind Buffy, her eyes drifting between the Slayer and her vampire. They really were. .  . Kirsten sighed, a smile crossing her features. They were a fairy-tale come true – something out of legend. The scarred and damaged warrior, hiding the pure and sensitive soul behind the mask of brutality, wandering for years in the dark until the beautiful, fierce, deadly girl stole his heart.  
  
Mentally rolling her eyes, Kirsten sighed. They’d both knock her on the head for that one. . . . and privately they’d be mush. _But too bad, coz it’s true. Only they don’t think its all that weird. . . but I think they were made for each other._   
  
As she watched them standing by the door, Spike rested one hand on Dawn’s shoulder, his other reached out to run a finger over Buffy’s cheek, cupping her chin and then the baby’s head; Kirsten knew no matter how much trouble she was going to get into, coming back had been the right thing to do. Besides, now she just had more ammo to tease them with.  
  
The Jeep pulled up and Spike turned his head, catching her eye. “C’mon pet, time to go.”  
  
She gulped, knowing that the longer she stayed in the past, the more risk she ran of making a mistake. The last thing she wanted to do was slip up and accidentally tell someone exactly who she was and why she was there.  
  
Her thoughts were scrambling, all jumbled up with the weirdness of being back here, with these people she loved. They all looked, well, mostly the same. Her dad hadn’t aged at all, and neither had her mother, but the others should have. Pop should have changed in the last sixteen years, aged considerably, and yet he didn’t look much older. Anya hadn’t changed, but Wesley had. The man she called ‘Uncle Wesley’ wasn’t like this guy. He had a dark scar around his neck, almost like someone had tried to slice his head off, and his hair and beard were traced with silver. And he was so angry. Bitter and terse all the time. Kirsten wondered what had happened to make him that way. _Maybe he’d been in love or in some dangerous situation. . ._  
  
Realizing speculation was foolish, especially since by the time she got home to where she belonged, more than likely he’d also be changed, Kirsten pushed those thoughts aside. I should really be thinking about when I can escape and get back home. _I really . . . how weird is it that I’m on my way home and it’s not really home – not like home is now. Crap, thinking like this is gonna give me a headache._   
  
From what she could see, the town hadn’t changed much either, although hardly anyone was out on the streets. In her time, people were out, not in great numbers, but they were out. _Maybe it’s because we’ve sort of shut down the Hellmouth? Or maybe it’s because Daddy doesn’t let any demons in without knowing what’s going on . . . Either way, there’s more people than there are now._  
  
Before she realized it, they were pulling into the driveway at home, and Faith and Wesley were just crossing the next door neighbor’s lawn. Buffy was out of the Jeep before they stopped and she was at the back, opening the hatch so Spike could get Dawn into the house. “Giles? Get the door please.”   
  
Buffy shared a look with Spike and he nodded once, indicating his understanding. Once they crossed the threshold, he shifted Dawn around, balancing her weight better in his arms. He took the stairs two at a time, moving easily despite Dawn’s inert state. Giles moved toward the kitchen, trailed by the others, except Faith, who looked like she was ready to bolt.  
  
Spike’s voice from upstairs forestalled whatever Buffy had been about to say to Faith. She took the baby from Anya and in a move that surprised no one more than herself, said, “C’mon Kirsten, you too.”  
  
Kirsten trailed behind her. A very weird feeling, something akin to deja vu crept through her as she walked down the hallway. She’d done this hundreds of times, trailing after her parents as they tucked them all into bed, and now it was even weirder, because she’d never been in this position with Dawn. Tears filled her eyes as she noted the pictures on the wall of her long dead grandmother and Dawn as she was growing up.  
  
“We need to get her out of those clothes and into peejays.” Buffy’s voice sounded a little muffled, as she rounded the corner into Dawn’s room. Kirsten still had a hard time thinking of it that way, since the boys had been using it their whole lives.  
  
Kirsten followed them into the room, her eyes darting between the two adults. Spike put Dawn down, laying her very gently on the bed, then stared down at the softly weeping teen.  
  
With Connor tucked up against her shoulder, Buffy one-handedly tried to get Dawn’s boots off, until Kirsten quietly asked, “Want me to do that?”  
  
She found herself the subject of two very sharp and pointed looks from the adults; blue eyes speculative while the hazel stare was somewhat more welcoming. Buffy glanced over at Spike before saying, “Take Connor? I’ll get her ready.”  
  
Her attention already on Dawn, Buffy handed off the baby, who didn’t protest being held by the stranger. Spike’s raised eyebrow posed a question to his mate, who responded with a shrug and distracted look. Dawn was murmuring incoherently, the pain medication kicking in and making her drowsy and lethargic.  
  
Buffy brushed back Dawn’s hair, running her fingers across her battered cheek, her touch gentle and unaware of the tears falling from her own eyes. “I’m sorry Dawnie. . . I’m so sorry, I wasn’t there to protect you.”  
  
“Mommy.” A soft whimper broke from Dawn.  
  
“Mommy’s just getting something. . . try and sleep, Dawnie.” She leaned over, her hands brushing away Dawn’s tears, tucking her hair back away from her battered and bandaged face.  
  
“Don’t wanna. . . want . . . Daddy?” Dawn’s bloodshot, bleary eyes focused on Spike, who had moved to stand behind Buffy. “There’s Daddy. . . I’ve got a vampire daddy. . . says I’m . . . mother and Janet.” She reached for him but a grimace crossed her features as pain rippled through her. “Ow. . . ow. . . _ow_.”  
  
“All right, Niblet, need to stay still. ‘M right here, not goin’ anywhere.” He settled onto the bed, near her hip, his cool hand cupping hers. From the look on his face, Kirsten figured they didn’t know yet about Dawn. _But that isn’t right, because Mom herself told me that they found out the night Connor was born. And I’m holding him now, so they should know. So what the hell is going on?_  
  
“Stay with me?” Dawn settled down the minute their hands met. “Safe with my Daddy. . . Spike.”  
  
He shared a long look with Buffy, one Kirsten couldn’t decipher at all.   
  
“Yeah, sweets, all safe now. ‘M gonna keep you safe.” With his free hand, Spike held onto Buffy’s, his thumb brushing over the top of hers, “Gonna keep you all safe.”  
  
Kirsten watched them, suddenly aware that neither Buffy nor Spike was in possession of all the facts at the moment. Somehow, their knowledge of the truth about Dawn had been stripped from them. _Do they know about her being pregnant? What had happened to cause this shift?_   
  
She’d taken a huge risk, coming back to save Dawn, risking getting caught and exposing her secrets. Connor nuzzled against her neck and Kirsten fought a giggle. Holding him, she reached a decision, one she was determined to keep. _If I have to explain . . . well, me, I’m only explaining it to two people. Hopefully, they’ll take it on faith and not give me too much shit about it. But I had to come back. . . had to. For Mom’s sake. . . and Dad’s too._  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
  
Annie caught up with Taryn just outside her classroom. They weren’t supposed to leave until someone was there to pick them up and Annie had a feeling that whoever came today was going to be late. She’d fallen asleep just after the bell had rung, signaling the start of the day, so she knew something was going on.  
  
They waited outside the school, at the spot where the teenagers were always waiting. Taryn was sitting quietly on her backpack, her long strawberry blonde hair tangling in the slight breeze. Annie, though, couldn’t sit still and she was walking along the low concrete wall, occasionally flipping into cartwheels when that got boring. Neither one of them was concerned about safety, both knowing more than enough magic to ward and protect themselves if necessary.   
  
The last teacher walked out of the building, and noticing the two waiting in the playground, approached them. “Are you waiting for your parents?”  
  
By unspoken agreement, Annie did all the talking. “My brothers should be here any minute now.”  
  
“Would you like me to wait with you? It’s not safe for little girls to be on their own.” The teacher moved closer, but not close enough for either girl to feel threatened.   
  
And yet Taryn got up, sidling over to where Annie waited, perfectly still. She didn’t speak, though her hands tightened around the straps of her backpack.   
  
“No, you don’t have to. My brothers’ll be here,” Annie insisted.  
  
Once more the teacher tried, and as soon as the words left her mouth, Taryn grabbed Annie’s left arm, just above the wrist. Annie was about to blast her when she caught movement across the street. Someone was moving rapidly in their direction and before the teacher could move, Taryn called out, “Connor!” and bolted toward him.  
  
He scooped her up in a big hug, wrapping his arms around her protectively. Annie smiled at the teacher, the smile not reaching her eyes. “See, I told you my brother was coming.”  
  
Whatever had looked out at them from the teacher’s eyes receded, and Taryn relaxed against Connor’s shoulder. Her whispered, lisped words were for his ears only, though Connor wondered if Annie had guessed on her own. “She’s not good, she needs to be slayed.”  
      
“Did she hurt you?” He eyed the woman’s retreating back, squatting down to be eye level with his sister. “Did she do anything?”  
  
“Nah. She was gonna, I think.” Annie shrugged his concerns off, but Taryn was shaking her head. “I coulda handled her, you know.”  
  
“ _Annie_. . . Annie, you know you’re not supposed to do anything like that out in the open.” Connor had a tight grip on Taryn’s hand and he hefted her backpack easily on his shoulder. “And someday, you’re gonna run into something you can’t handle, so please stop trying, okay?” At her belligerent look, he tried again. “For me? Just try.”  
  
Anxious to change the subject, Annie looked around, “Where’s everybody else?”  
  
“Annie, promise me you’ll let me take care of the teacher.” He wasn’t going to let her get away with diverting his attention, so he kept at her until she promised. Only when she finally agreed did he answer her question. “At Dad’s old crypt. Kirsten skipped again.”  
  
Taryn stopped twirling her hair and unstuck her thumb from her mouth. “That’s not good. Why’d she do it again?”  
  
Instead of letting Connor answer her question, Annie did. “Because she’s not done. Stuff changed, but not enough. At least Daddy’s not gonna be with her if he leaves.”  
  
“God! How _old_ are you? Dammit, Annie!” Connor shook his head, picking up his pace and practically growling at his little sister. “Do you even know how old you are? Could you sometimes act it?”  
  
Annie stuck her tongue out at his back. “You’re such an old man. Sometimes I hate you.”  
  
“Fine. Hate me all you like. I don’t really care. Just don’t do anything that’s gonna get you in trouble with Dad, okay? We have enough shit to worry about. I can’t worry about you, too.” He crossed into Restfield, Annie struggling to keep up with his longer legs.   
  
“Connor?” Annie’s tone caught him up short, and he whirled around so fast that Taryn’s hair whipped across his eyes.   
  
“What?”  
  
“Want me to see if I can get Kirstie to come back?”  
  
She looked so much like a scared ten year old that Connor forgave her the attitude and he grabbed her hand. “Only if you have to, Annie-bug. We’ll see if she comes back on her own first, before we do that.”  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
  
 _Robbie is so gonna kill me._ Kirsten closed her eyes, shutting out the sights and sounds around her, searching for the bond she shared with her older brother. It was still there, though, stretched very thin, but still real, still true. _He’s so gonna kick my ass, but Daddy’s gonna be worse._ Opening her eyes again, Kirsten found discerning blue eyes focused on her, a very assessing look in his eyes. _I am so very busted. There’s really no way I’m gonna get away with this, because after tonight, they’re gonna know just about everything. I don’t have a choice, though.  Not really._  
  
Buffy was rustling about the bedroom, picking up Dawn’s destroyed clothes and stuffing them in the trash bin. Kirsten tracked her movements, knowing Buffy was doing the cleaning just to stay busy. Her back was to Spike, her body almost parallel with Kirsten’s and Kirsten could just see Buffy’s expression out of the corner of her eyes. She knew a split second before Spike did that Buffy was crying, but only because she saw the tears start.  
  
Spike was on his feet, his arms wrapped around Buffy’s shoulders before Kirsten could react. “Kitten?”  
  
She turned in his embrace, burying her face against his chest. “I’m supposed to keep her safe. To protect her. I promised Mom I would. . . I failed her, Spike. She wasn’t safe tonight.”  
  
“You did nothin’ wrong love, spell’s playin’ with all of us.” His hands ran down her back, soothing her as best he could. “Not your fault.”   
  
_Wait, did he just say spell? What spell? What’s going on? Who did a spell to make them forget? And why would someone do that?_  
  
“It is. . . what if he’s around because of something I did?” The words were tumbling from her mouth before she could stop their flow.  
  
Spike stared down at the top of her head for a moment, and Kirsten could see the anger warring with grief and some disbelief in his eyes. “Buffy. . . tha’s just fear talkin’. Look at me love.” When she kept her eyes averted, he tilted her chin up, his fingers holding her face. “Those marks of mine aren’t a week old, they’re older. We smell too much like each other. That baby here,” he pressed his other hand against her belly. “This is mine too. . . An’ ‘m gonna guess an’ say that didn’t happen last week. Have to be at least a month along, kitten; otherwise I couldn’t be so sure.”   
  
Wrapping his arms around her again, he rested his forehead against hers. “There’s no way the bond we share would allow for what you’re thinkin’. Wasn’t you this time.”  
  
 _Okay, so they do know about her being pregnant. . ._ Doing the quick calculations in her head, Kirsten realized that it was her and Robbie. . . _and oh, how freaking weird is this?_ Kirsten knew she shouldn’t be a witness to this moment. This was. . . very private. She closed her eyes again, shutting down all her senses, waiting until one or the other of them called her by name. She missed when Buffy leaned into Spike, her hands holding onto his shirt, her body seeking reassurance from him that he wasn’t just saying all this to ease her guilt. She missed too, when Spike lowered his head, his lips brushing across Buffy’s, soft words of comfort and love issuing forth.  
  
For long moments they stood together, until Connor’s whimpers of discomfort mingled with Dawn’s groans of pain.  
  
Kirsten came out of her trance state to find concerned hazel green eyes staring at her. For a moment, Kirsten swore there was recognition and awareness there, but then Buffy blinked and the knowledge was gone. “Hey. You okay? You were like a million miles away.”  
  
It took her a minute to shake off the trance and find her voice. “Yeah. I’m good. How’s Dawn?”  
  
“She’ll be all right. Needs to sleep now.” Spike answered.   
  
“We need to get this little guy settled.” Lifting Connor from Kirsten’s arms, Buffy said, “I’ll be right back. You can borrow something of Dawn’s to sleep in.”  
  
“Yeah. I’ll, um, do that.” Kirsten watched Buffy go, then headed straight for Dawn’s dresser. “I’ll just grab something comfy and change.”  
  
“Do that. When you come back, we’re gonna have ourselves a bit of a chat.” There was no mistaking the intent in her father’s blue eyes.  
  
 _Yeah, I’m so freaking busted._


	7. Time will explain it all

**_Seven.  Time will explain it all._**  
  
  
 ** _Time will explain it all._**  
 ** _He is a talker, and needs no questioning before he speaks._**  
 ** _Euripides, Æolus. Frag. 38._**  
  
 ** _[History] hath triumphed over time,_**  
 ** _which besides it nothing but eternity hath triumphed over._**  
 ** _Sir Walter Raleigh, Historie of the World. Preface._**  
  
 ** _“The time has come,” the Walrus said,_**  
 ** _“To talk of many things:_**  
 ** _Of shoes—and ships—and sealing-wax—_**  
 ** _Of cabbages—and kings—_**  
 ** _And why the sea is boiling hot—_**  
 ** _And whether pigs have wings._**  
 ** _Lewis (Charles Lutwidge Dodgson) Carroll,Through the Looking-glass. Chap. iii._**  
  
  
Kirsten purposely kept her mind blank the whole time she was in the bathroom changing. _I’m not gonna think about this at all. . . I’m not._  
  
She rolled up the sleeves of the borrowed pajamas, wrinkling her nose at the amount of material she had to bunch up. _So not fair that I’m the smallest person in the family. How come I have to be so damned tiny? I’m gonna be stuck wearing kiddie sizes until I’m thirty. Bleah!_  
  
Slipping into the flannel pants, Kirsten rolled her eyes. _It’s a good thing these have a drawstring waist, otherwise I’d be totally screwed._ The bottoms hung down past her feet and she stopped trying to roll them up when the flannel wouldn’t cooperate. Heaving out an exasperated sigh, Kirsten stared at herself in the mirror.   
  
_I’m totally avoiding this._  
  
 _Oh, well. Might as well just do it._  
  
Letting the bottoms of the pants pool around her ankles, Kirsten padded softly down the hall. Slipping into the bedroom, she paused for a moment, watching her father as he sat with Dawn. He was on the bed beside her, one hand smoothing back the silky strands of dark hair, the other clasped around her smaller one.  
  
A low, rumbling hum was emanating from his chest and Kirsten recognized it as a tune he often hummed when William was unusually fretful. Some long ago memory thrummed in her heart. She remembered when she’d been about four and very sick. Spike had come home, worried about her after hearing from Giles how bad she was, and had stayed by her bedside for days, seeing to her every need and softly humming that same lullaby to her.   
  
Spike glanced up to see her standing there and a small flare of amusement brightened his features. Kirsten realized she must look totally ridiculous, rigged out in Dawn’s two-sizes to large pajamas and she flushed a bit, looking down at herself.   
  
She missed the smile Spike directed her way, but looked up in time to catch the frown. Getting to his feet, Spike pointed a finger in Kirsten’s direction. “Stay in this room, pet. Be right back.”   
  
He didn’t close the door completely on the way out and she didn’t bother to, either. Kirsten knew it was unlikely Angel would attack again, considering the hour, but she wanted to be able to get to weapons quickly, just in case.   
  
Knowing how wrong it was, Kirsten snooped for a little bit anyway. Dawn was sleeping, the drugs and pain finally kicking in and sending her into oblivion. While rummaging about in Dawn’s desk, Kirsten stumbled onto several pictures, ones she’d never before seen. Photographs of Buffy and Dawn together; of Auntie Tee and . . . _ugh!_ Kirsten frowned, tossing aside the picture of Xander and Willow, not wanting to think about either of them.   
  
She only knew them from pictures, and what little her mother or her Aunt Tara was willing to say, which wasn’t much. Willow was still living in Sunnydale and sometimes she came around; especially if they had a lot of research to do. All she knew about Xander was that he hated her father. _There’s another story there. . . and maybe I’ll hear more about that soon. Oh well, just another bunch of questions I have about what happened before I was born._  
  
Growing bored with snooping, Kirsten sat down catty-cornered to Dawn’s bed, her head resting in her cupped hands, watching the other teen sleep. She turned to look at the doorway as Spike, followed by Buffy, came back into the room. The looks on their faces weren’t entirely hostile and Kirsten felt a little bit of relief. _There’s no way I can get around this anymore. Oh, well . . ._   
  
Buffy asked, “How is she?” while moving past Spike toward the bed.   
  
“Sleeping.” Kirsten shrugged, getting up from the chair, moving toward the window and peering out between the curtains. “Hasn’t moved since . . .”  
  
“Good.” Buffy sat down on the edge of the bed, one hand smoothing through Dawn’s long hair, her eyes focused on the smaller girl. The silence stretched between the three of them, the two adults unsure how to start the conversation and the teen reluctant for it to even take place.  
  
Spike leaned back against the wall, feet spread wide in a deceptively lazy pose, his eyes locked on Kirsten, who was still staring out the window. “So, pet, gonna tell us who you are an’ how you knew about all this?”  
  
Buffy hid the smile his question raised, watching Kirsten closely for her reaction.   
  
Kirsten looked down, staring at her feet. She wasn’t sure how much she should tell them, but she also knew that once her father got part of the story, he wouldn’t rest until he had it all. She moved away from the window, stalling for time, though that didn’t work, because neither of the adults spoke, waiting for her to finally answer.  
  
Taking a deep breath, Kirsten looked up, her eyes on Dawn, and started to speak. “Before I start to tell you, can I ask you a couple of questions?”  
  
The two adults shared a look, then Spike responded, “Can ask. Might not get any answers.”  
  
“I suppose that’s okay.” She shrugged, then wandered back toward Dawn’s desk. “How much do you remember about the last couple of months?”  
  
“Not much. Mem’ries are a bit blurry.” Again Spike answered her while Buffy stayed silent.  
  
“The reason why I’m here is because of Dawn.” Kirsten easily hopped up on Dawn’s desk, swinging her feet back and forth. The idleness was deceptive because her hands clenched the desk’s edge on either side of her, her knuckles showing almost white.  
  
“Why?” Buffy asked.  
  
“I came back to save her.” Kirsten had the words out of her mouth before Buffy was finished asking. She looked away from the sudden watchful wariness in both of them. “She was. . . Casey. . .  I helped once before when the knights were attacking.”  
  
“What?” Buffy’s shouted question almost blocked out Spike’s low-voiced, “When?”  
  
“Homecoming dance. The knights attacked and Spike got really messed up. Totally trashed.” She paused, her eyes on the floor, unwilling to look at them. Kirsten held up her hand, compressing her fingers. “You were this close to being dust.”  
  
Buffy stared at Kirsten for a long moment then turned anguished eyes on Spike. “I knew something bad happened.”  
  
“‘M all right now, sweets.” His eyes met Kirsten’s. “An’ this still doesn’t explain how you knew about this an’ why you’re helpin’.”  
  
She sighed, knowing it was time and also knowing she couldn’t get out of telling them. _But maybe it’ll be easier if I tell them who Dawn is first . . ._ “Look at her.” Both of them focused on the sleeping teen. “Who does she look like?”  
  
Kirsten fell silent, waiting for them to make the connection. She’d heard Dawn after they’d gotten her in the room, and it was obvious the other teen knew the truth. It wasn’t long before Spike looked up, his eyes resting on Buffy while he spoke. “She’s ours, isn’t she? Mine and the Slayer’s.”  
  
“Yeah, she is.” Kirsten paused, wracking her brain for more information for them. “I don’t know how the monks did it, but I know that somehow the Initiative was also involved.” She _didn’t_ know everything, all the specifics, since no one had ever told her or Robbie all the specifics. Even when she’d talked to Dawn after the Homecoming Dance, Dawn hadn’t been able to give her any real information. She’d just babbled on about how the monks had stolen DNA the Initiative had stored and somehow, using magic, they’d created Dawn. Which was way freaky, when she thought about it.  
  
Buffy was staring at Dawn, her mind racing. She looked at Dawn, really looked at her. The confirmation was there in the lines of Dawn’s face, the straight nose, the high cheekbones, the arch of her brows. And the evidence of her own contributions, the wide mouth, the curve of her cheeks. Buffy glanced up at Spike to find his eyes riveted on Dawn.  
  
Kirsten’s voice broke the heavy silence. “So now you know.” Trying to pick through all the things she knew, Kirsten stared down at her hands. “I’m here because I had to help.”  
  
“How long have you known you’re a baby slayer?” Spike’s question startled her, because she hadn’t been expecting it at all.   
  
“My whole life.” _Oh, shit! So didn’t want to admit that._  
  
Buffy’s eyes bored into hers. To her credit, Kirsten didn’t flinch. “Tell me how you knew all along.”  
  
 _Might as well tell them the truth about this one. I can’t lie about it. Somehow Dad will be able to tell and I’ll get into trouble for this, too._ “My parents told me.”  
  
“An’ who might they be?” There was curiosity in his tone, but more than that, Kirsten heard the steel in the question.   
  
_Crap! How stupid am I? How the hell am I gonna get outta this one . . . Crap. Crap. . . this is just craptastic._ Kirsten refused to look at either of them, keeping her eyes downcast and away. Spike straightened up, then leaned one shoulder against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. “You grew up here in Sunnyhell, didn’t you?”  
  
It wasn’t really a question and Kirsten was well aware of it. “Yeah. Was born here.”  
  
“Talkin’ to you, pet, is like pullin’ teeth.” It was very clear Spike’s patience was wearing perilously thin. “You’re gonna have to be a bit more forthcoming, princess.”  
  
Buffy glanced over at him, a funny little smile playing on her lips. “Spike?”  
  
He answered, not taking his eyes from Kirsten. “Yeah, kitten?”   
  
“Take a look at her. . . a real look.” Buffy’s words echoed Kirsten’s earlier ones and the significance wasn’t lost on Spike. He did as she asked, his eyes focused on the little girl sitting on the desk. Kirsten knew what he saw; a small girl with dark blond hair, doe eyes of changeable color framed with thick dark lashes, high cheekbones and a pert nose with an off-center bump. . . wide mouth. . .   
  
“Wha’?” He hesitated, not certain he understood Buffy. “Kitten?”  
  
The Slayer looked at Kirsten. “You came because Dawn was in trouble. How did you know?”  
  
“Someone had a vision.” Her next words were soft, barely audible. “Please don’t ask me who.”  
  
“Kirsten?” Buffy got up from the bed, standing in front of the teen. “Tell me who your father is.”  
  
Miserable eyes lifted to hers and Kirsten tried not to, but she couldn’t help herself, her eyes flicked to Spike.  
  
Spike had caught the look, same as Buffy, and not giving Kirsten a chance to lie, fired the next question at her. “What year were you born?”   
  
She answered before she really had time to think. “2002.”  
  
Buffy caught the panicked look in Kirsten’s eyes and knew. “It’s all right. I think I understand. Okay, not understand really, but I get it. What you’re saying. And not saying.” She shrugged, a bright sparkle in her eyes. “Spike?”  
  
He was staring at the two of them, his eyes wide and unblinking. “Well, then.”  
  
And the room fell silent.  
  
 _Oh God. I can’t believe I just blurted that out like that. Why did I do that?_ Kirsten suppressed the sigh bubbling in her throat, afraid they’d misinterpret it. _But hey, points for not giving up the others. At least I kept quiet about them. I am so dead. Robbie and Connor are gonna skin me. And . . . and now Daddy knows. . . I’m in so much trouble._   
  
Spike’s voice broke the silence. It sounded like he was asking Buffy for permission to believe what Kirsten had just told them. “Kitten?”  
  
He moved away from the wall, needing to touch her, to feel her beneath his fingers. At the first touch of his fingers on her skin, he inhaled deeply, nostrils flaring, jaw clenching. His fingertips brushed over the baby-soft skin of her cheek, his eyes mapping the contours of her face, his nose scenting her closely. She was still, unmoving under his hands while he searched her features. His jaw clenched again, and Kirsten wondered what he was thinking, because a muscle ticked in his cheek and she knew he’d just realized exactly what she’d done. And why.  
  
Kirsten tensed beneath his fingers and Spike stepped back, giving her room and himself space. The muscles in his cheek tensed, and it took every ounce of willpower he possessed for him to hold onto the ragged edges of his temper.  
  
Her eyes widened, feeling the anger rising off her father in waves. Some of it was directed at her, and she knew she was in for a rough night, but there was more to his anger at the moment than just her presence where she shouldn’t be.  
  
Spike practically ground out the words. “Took an awful risk coming back here, princess. Only somethin’ terrible should’ve made you think it was worth wrecking everythin’.”   
  
She started to speak and he held up his hand, motioning her to silence. “Seein’ as how you already admitted _why_ , you can’t deny it. An’ ‘m not sure I really wanna know _how_ you could manage such a feat, but ‘m not feelin’ real understandin’ at the moment.” He stabbed a finger at her, forcibly holding back from hitting her. “Put yourself in danger, you did. . . an’ what bleedin’ insane notion got into your head made you think you could take on Angelus? By your bitty self?”   
  
His voice was rising and Kirsten felt the first stirrings of real panic flooding through her belly. “What the bleedin’ hell did you possibly think you’d be able to do?”   
  
Buffy had been silent while Spike approached Kirsten, watching while his eyes focused on her. It had taken her a minute to follow his line of thought, but the moment he started speaking, she knew his temper was hanging by a thread. The muscles in his cheek and temple were throbbing, almost pulsing to a non-existent heartbeat. His finger rose in the air, poking at Kirsten and when his voice rose to a near shout, Buffy decided it was time to intervene.   
  
“Spike?” Her voice was quiet, her hand still covering her belly protectively and she took a step toward him, angling her body away from the bed, moving closer to Kirsten. “Calm down for a minute.”  
  
His eyes were glittering, swirling with unstated emotions she knew were churning up inside of him. “C’mon Spike. Just for a minute. Please, calm down.”  
  
He relaxed fractionally, seeing the concern in her gaze. They shared a long look, neither one of them speaking and Kirsten closed her eyes, focusing on her own thoughts. The stillness Buffy’s words produced didn’t last very long and Spike’s breathing intensified.   
  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
  
The two little girls were finished with their homework and Jake had lifted Taryn up onto his shoulders when a low, grating noise echoed in the chamber downstairs. They very rarely ventured down there; the stabilizing beams were rotting away in places and none of the boys had a chance to fix them.   
  
Connor grabbed Annie, pushing her toward the crypt door. “Move now!” he shouted. The floor shook a little, and Jake dropped Taryn down to stand next to Annie in the doorway.  
  
All three boys scrambled for weapons; Connor tossed a short sword at Robbie, while Jake armed the mini crossbow. As a single unit, they edged toward the iron and marble slab covering the opening to the lower level, Jake and Robbie flanking Connor, who took center point. Ciara stood protectively in front of the girls, moving them away from the exposed doorway, toward the more protected area of the crypt. Robbie glanced at them out of the corner of his eye, noting that Ciara had grabbed one of the daggers and she was holding it between her teeth, while she had one hand on each of the other girls.  
  
The noise continued, growing in intensity. Connor dropped to his knees, pulling on the chain to lift the marble slab. The sound changed into a low, growling rumble and Connor reared back, as the stench of whatever was down there wafted up through the opening to engulf the crypt.  
  
“Holy crap. What the _hell_ is that?” Robbie covered his mouth, while Jake fought his own gag reflex.  
  
“Goddamn that is some _nasty_ shit.” Jake leaned over, turning his body away from the opening. “When was the last time anyone was down there?”  
  
“I have no freaking idea.” Connor slammed the slab back down, jumping away when the dust rose up in a cloud. “ _Fuck!_ ”  
  
The girls were gagging, coughing and grumbling about the smell, and Taryn headed for the door, followed quickly by Annie. They staggered out, barely clearing it before Ciara and the boys trailed after them. Taryn was vomiting in the rose bush next to the crypt and Ciara reached over, pulling her hair up away from the mess. Annie lay down on the cool grass, her breath coming in short pants. Each one of them was gagging, trying not to succumb like Taryn had, with varying degrees of success.   
  
Connor and Robbie were sitting on the steps, hunched over while Jake had managed to get to his feet and close the crypt door.  
  
“We’re gonna have to go down there and clean that out, aren’t we?” Robbie didn’t pick up his head, grumbling down at his scuffed boots.  
  
“Yeah.” Connor dropped onto his side, his hands curling over his belly. “Don’t wanna, but I think we’re gonna have to.”  
  
“Dude, that just sucks.” Jake’s legs gave out and he slid down the wall, groaning loudly about going back in the crypt. “Do we have to do this now?”  
  
“No way am I going back in there. Not today.” Robbie shook his head. “Maybe not even tomorrow.”  
  
“Maybe we can get the girls to get rid of the stench before we go down there.” Connor tried sitting up, groaning when his head swam. “Cee? You think you could come up with something?”  
  
Curling her arms around her younger sister, Ciara garbled out something the boys took for agreement.  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
  
William’s crying woke Spike out of a sound sleep, the plaintive notes grating on his sensitive hearing. Buffy stirred beside him, her arm tightening around his hip, her nose burrowing into a spot just below his shoulder blade. He glanced at the alarm clock, staring in disbelief at the time it was displaying.  
  
Four thirteen . . . _where the hell are the kids?_  
  
“Buffy.” He shifted onto his back, jostling the sleeping woman beside him. “Kitten, need to wake up.”  
  
She grumbled sleepily, stretching and yawning, slowly reacting to the growing distress from her youngest. “Can you get him?”  
  
Spike threw off the covers, rolling to his feet and reached for his jeans. Quickly shoving his feet into them, he didn’t even bother with buttoning them before he reached for William. Scooping the baby up into his arms, he smiled down into his son’s red face and teary eyes, rumbling deep in his chest to soothe him.   
  
Buffy was sitting up, a pillow propped under her arm and her top undone, waiting for Spike to give William to her. “Now, tha’s a sight.”  
  
She laughed, looking down at her almost bared breasts, shaking her head at Spike’s leer. “You’re such a pig.”  
  
“So you’ve been tellin’ me for years, pet. Think I got that memo.” He lay the squirming infant down easily in her arms, brushing a kiss on top of her head. “Kitten, the older ones aren’t back from school yet.”  
  
Buffy glanced at the clock, doing a double take when she realized the time. “Call Tara, maybe they’re all at their house.”  
  
Spike leaned over her, reaching for the phone when it started ringing. “Glinda. No, thought they might be with you.” Buffy couldn’t hear the other end of the conversation, but she tensed, wondering what was being said. “No, I’ll go.”  
  
The phone was tossed at her and only Buffy’s quick reflexes caught it before it landed anywhere near William. “What’s up?”  
  
“Kiddies aren’t at Glinda’s. Need to go look for them.” He got dressed, shoving his feet into his boots. “I’ll be back in a bit. Glinda’s gonna set out from her place.”  
  
Absently brushing his hand over William’s head, Spike leaned down to kiss Buffy. “Love you.”  
  
He got to the door before Buffy called him back. “Spike? Call me as soon as you know where they are.”  
  
He didn’t bother responding, just headed down the stairs and out the door, prepared to head into the sewers.

 


	8. Never was time it was not

_**Eight  Never was time it was not**_  
  
 _ **Never the spirit was born; the spirit shall cease to be never;**_  
 _ **Never was time it was not; End and Beginning are dreams!**_  
 _ **Birthless and deathless and changeless remaineth the spirit for ever;**_  
 _ **Death hath not touched it at all, dead though the house of it seems!**_  
 _ **Bhagavad Gita, The Song Celestial or Bhagavad-Gita,**_  
 _ **trans. Sir Edwin Arnold, pp. 10–11 (1934).**_  
  
 _ **Time moves in one direction, memory in another.**_  
 _ **William Gibson**_  
  
  
Ignoring the scents assaulting his nose, Spike focused on finding his errant children. Tara’s phone call had only intensified the unease he’d been feeling all afternoon, that innate sixth sense he carried alerting him that something wasn’t right, something was very _off_. . .   
  
 He couldn’t put a name to it, nor place what it was.  And so the niggling sense of everything being, as his Buffy would say, _wonky_ , was setting off his senses.          
  
He thought it was just some call from the Hellmouth brewing, some demonic activity that had sprung up unexpectedly while he’d been sleeping. Thinking on it, though, he realized how incredibly unrealistic that thought was. Spike was the most powerful vampire on the west coast; there was no way some unknown demon had set up shop without him being aware of it. His network of minions and spies reached all the way to the Orient and New York – nothing arrived on the Hellmouth without his knowing about it.   
  
So it had to be something else.  
  
Something he hadn’t already thought of, or planned for.   
  
Now, though, he knew what it was. His children, those mystical miracles formed from him and Buffy, were up to no good.  
  
The first place he thought of checking was his old crypt and he headed straight there through the sewers. The underground tunnels were still the quickest way around Sunnydale during the day, but he personally hated them. He stopped breathing the instant he’d dropped the manhole cover closed and hadn’t inhaled once in the time he’d been striding through the tunnels.  
  
Each of his children sported a claiming bite, while the Maclay-Osbourne offspring had something similar, for their protection. Concentrating, he was able to identify each of them, except for Kirsten. She wasn’t anywhere nearby, her signature too distant for him to get a bead on her location. _What the bloody hell has she done now?_  
  
He stopped mid-stride, focusing on his oldest daughter. A pang shot through his unbeating heart and he remembered Kirsten wasn’t his _oldest_. . . that would have been Dawn.   
  
Dawn, whom he hadn’t thought of in a while, forcefully pushing aside painful thoughts of her short existence from his head. It hurt too much to think about her, the ache of her absence worsening with time instead of easing. The first of the Summers women to trust him through the implanted memories, false as they were. However, the truth had been even more fantastic, more unbelievable. Dawn – the mystical Key the monks had formed from DNA and tissue samples stolen from the Initiative labs – had been his child. His and Buffy’s.   
  
Their first.  
  
Sudden awareness flared through him and he shook his head, unable to comprehend what his memories were telling him.  
  
Dawn had died the night of some school dance, her first formal. And yet, now he had memories of spending days convalescing in bed, of Dawn sitting with him after school and Connor mewling in the crib surfacing. The longer he focused, the more altered memories filtered through his thoughts. Memories of their first Christmas after Buffy’s return, all of them happy and . . . _Angelus_.  
  
Willow’s spell altering their memories had left them vulnerable, had allowed them to forget that Angelus was free. In revenge for rescuing the cheerleader, he’d attacked and killed both Dawn and her boyfriend. . . _what was the boy’s name?_  
  
His low, involuntary rumble of fury reverberated off the cement walls of the sewer, echoing down the passageways. Demons as far away as the high school hid, scurrying for bolt holes and safe spots. The rumble grew in intensity, becoming a full throated roar as Spike’s new memories took hold.   
  
_He remembered. . ._  
  
Remembered the terror on Dawn’s face. . .  
  
The scent of her life’s blood filling the night, her cries of pain. . .   
  
He remembered too, his blinding fury and unstoppable rage as he ripped Angelus’ head from his shoulders.  
  
 _Bloody hell. . ._   
  
Somehow, someway, Dawn had survived the fight against the Knights, only to die scant months later at the hands of Angelus . . . and Willow.  
  
His hands itched with the need to release the grief flooding his veins and Spike moved again, his boots thumping resolutely in the hushed quiet. Spike’s fists curled and clenched, tensing with his mounting anxiety.   
  
Pushing his newly altered memories of Dawn aside, he realized something was still wrong. Kirsten wasn’t nearby, and his memories of the past were filling him with dread. He didn’t think he could handle losing another one of his children. And he knew, without having to give it a second thought, if something dire were to happen to Kirsten, Buffy would be inconsolable. Losing Dawn had split them apart for years. He didn’t even want to contemplate what losing Kirsten would do.  
  
 _Where are you Kirstie-girl? Where? And what have you done?_  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
  
Kirsten watched as Spike’s agitation increased. It was clear the hold he had on his temper was fraying by the second, the rage feeding on itself, building toward an explosion of volcanic proportions. Lacking a proper outlet, Spike fell back on anxious pacing, his eyes darting between the three females in the room.  
  
Buffy was staring at him also, watching him carefully for signs of the massive blow-up that was brewing. Anger and fear were swirling thickly in the room, fueled by the adult male. Spike swept past her, tension radiating from every muscle. His elbow clipped her shoulder and Buffy reached out a hand, catching the back of his shirt in her fingers. The silence was palpable as he turned back to look at her. His blue eyes swam with emotions, some of them she readily flinched from, unwilling to go there just yet. Her lower lip quivered and in the next instant, his arms had curled around her, enclosing her in his embrace.  
  
Neither one spoke.  
  
Buffy’s fingers rubbed restlessly against the fabric of his tee-shirt, her face buried against the crook of his neck. His hand slid down from shoulder to waist, dipping beneath the pajamas she wore, calloused fingertips brushing the soft skin at the small of her back.  
  
A low rumble sounded in his chest and each one of his companions reacted.  
  
Kirsten recognized that sound and flinched away from it, knowing that his anger, if it wasn’t released soon, would have only one outlet.   
  
Dawn shifted in her drug induced slumber, whimpering for his attention. Spike tightened his arms around Buffy, laying a kiss on her temple, then released her. Short steps took him to Dawn’s bedside and his hand rested lightly on her injured cheek.  
  
Suddenly he whirled, reaching for his discarded duster and fixed a stern look on Kirsten. “Best still be here when I get back, princess, not done with you yet.”  
  
Wide-eyed, she nodded her head, knowing that any sign of disagreement would only make things worse.  
  
Buffy’s voice saying his name stopped him at the door. “Spike?”  
  
“Be back in a bit, Slayer. Go on to bed now.”  
  
“Spike?” Pleading this time, and he froze, as though waiting for her to say something more. The air around them throbbed with things unsaid, and Kirsten wondered what was going on between them.   
  
When no further words came, Spike half turned to look at Buffy and his raised eyebrow broke the silence. Her concerned whisper nearly undid his resolve to leave. “Don’t. . . please, be careful . . . and come home soon.”  
  
He shook his head again. “Don’t wait up.”  
  
And he was gone.  
  
The two blonds shared a look, Kirsten’s eyes filled with confusion and fear and Buffy’s fighting back tears.   
  
“What’s he gonna do?”  
  
“He’d better not go after Angel.” Buffy moved toward the door, motioning Kirsten to stay put.   
  
“Watch over her, would you?” She paused as she started to follow Spike out of the door, saying, “You might as well sleep in here. Just be careful not to disturb Dawn too much, okay?”  
  
“Yeah. Sure. I’m just gonna grab some blankets and sleep on the floor.” When Kirsten turned around to look, Buffy was already through the door and halfway down the hallway. Carefully pulling a couple of the blankets from the end of the bed and snagging two of the spare pillows, Kirsten stood still for a minute, staring down at Dawn. Shifting her gaze between Dawn and the door, Kirsten made a nest of the blankets on the floor at the foot of her sister’s bed.  
  
  
 @---------------------------@---------------------------------@  
  
  
  
Taryn crawled away from Ciara, burrowing under Robbie’s hunched form, wrapping her arms around his neck and curling into him. She patted his face, whispering intently, soft enough so none of the others could overhear her words. Jake watched Robbie’s back stiffen, and he leaned forward, trying to catch some of her words. His best friend’s head shook, and he watched as Robbie clutched at Taryn, burying his head against her neck.   
  
Robbie rocked her back and forth, whether it was for her comfort or his, neither one of them was sure. They just held on to each other until she reached up again and wiped away his tears. “She’s okay, Robbie. I promise.”  
  
“I believe you, sweet-pea, I do. She just needs to come home.”   
  
Robbie let Taryn drop, so that she was sitting between his legs, cocooned in his embrace. He returned the favor and wiped away her tears, freezing when she innocently said, “She can’t come home yet, Rob. Dawnie still doesn’t want to live.”  
  
“What?” Jake had heard that and his voice raised in question. “What the hell are you talking about?”  
  
Connor reached out a hand to hold him back, knowing that the worst thing he could do would be to yell at her. They all knew Taryn was as talented as Annie, and when one couldn’t give an answer, the other one usually had it. Holding up his fingers to his mouth to silence Jake’s outburst, Connor just shook his head.  
  
Glaring at Connor, yet maintaining his silence, Jake watched Taryn, his entire body tense with worry for his baby sister.   
  
It took her a while to speak, since Jake’s shout had scared her, but she finally did. Tears slipped down her cheeks and Robbie held her, one hand rubbing her back. “She doesn’t wanna live. She’s afraid and scared and hurt. The bad man hurted her a lot. She’s all black and blue and crying. I don’t like that bad man.”  
  
Ciara had moved closer, her arms hugging both Robbie and her sister, and she’d laid her head down on Robbie’s shoulder in comfort. “What happened, sweetie?”  
  
“He hurted her.” Taryn buried her head against Robbie’s chest, crying softly. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”  
  
“Sshhhh. It’s okay, sweet-pea. It’s okay.” Robbie held onto her, resisting when Ciara tried to take her from him. “Leave her, she’s okay.”  
  
Annie looked up from her spot by the roses, her voice barely above a whisper. “She almost died. That’s why Kirstie had to go back again. She. . . Dawnie, he. . .” Her expressive face twisted with grief, and Annie curled in on herself, closing her eyes and turning her face away.  
  
Connor was the first to reach her and she resisted him at first, shying away from his touch, only relaxing when she registered his voice. “C’mon, Annie-bug, it’s just me.”  
  
The older teens all shared looks, none of them comfortable with what had just transpired.  
  
  
  
@---------------------------@---------------------------------@  
  
  
  
There was light up ahead where there shouldn’t be, and the stench drifting through the sewer was the most noxious thing Spike had ever had the displeasure of smelling. His eyes were tearing and he could taste it without even having to breathe it. Spike was pretty certain that whatever was emitting that kind of odor was not only poisonous, but deadly for humans. He hoped that the kids hadn’t come by the crypt, though somehow he had a feeling that particular form of luck wasn’t running with him.  
  
Spike rounded the bend into the tunnel leading to his old crypt and reeled back from the fumes. He doubled over, reflexively gagging from the smell of the noxious gases. Knowing he didn’t need to breathe didn’t help either in this case, because the effect in such a confined space was overwhelming. Staggering back past the last turn, Spike fought his churning gut. _‘M a vamp, for chrissake, this shite shouldn’t be bothering me._  
  
Yet it was. Whatever was inhabiting his old crypt had the most disgusting stench he’d ever run across in all his years of existence. It smelled like rotting horseflesh, decaying corpses, and something else he didn’t dare try and identify. Unfortunately for him, whatever it was had to go. The thing emitting that odor was between him and his children and which was something Spike was not about to allow. The cloying worry about them was resurfacing, since he could sense them nearby, which was amplified by the fear that whatever stood between him and them might somehow have captured them all.  
  
Steeling his resolve and inhaling deep cleansing breaths, Spike ran full tilt around the corner and into the lower level of the crypt. He looked around, eyes tearing and bulging at the changes. Gone were the coffins he’d piled up haphazardly, using them for tables and benches. In their place were squishy, bean-bag looking piles of something he didn’t look too closely at, and almost artful looking hanging weblike structures.  
  
He brushed one aside, stepping further into the cavern, scanning the corners for whatever had taken up roost. To his left, where the makeshift shower he’d rigged up had been, was a shallow pool formed out of a stolen square marble tub, most likely from one of the other cemeteries. Spike cautiously stepped toward it, peering into the water. He huffed out a sigh of relief, relaxing just a bit when a noise from his right echoed in the chamber.  
  
Spike stretched and cracked his neck, turning around slowly to face the thing looking out at him from the shadows. “Don’t rightly know how long you’ve been squatting here, but this is my place.”  
  
A sibilant hiss greeted his statement and the shadows shifted revealing a vague figure, roughly the size of an average human male. Spike didn’t move, didn’t say anything further, just waited the thing out, hoping it would step further into the light. His uncharacteristic patience was rewarded when the thing stepped completely out of the shadows.   
  
Its face, if it had ever really had one, had disintegrated, leaving nothing behind but a raw, skinless mess of suppurating flesh. The thing had no eyes, nor sockets for them, and instead of hands it sported nubs, with bony protrusions growing out of its arm-like appendages. Moving forward in a shuffling gait, Spike thought at first it might be a zombie or something similar, but the thing opened its mouth and more gases emerged, covering him in a fine, foul-smelling mist.  
  
The mist was sort of a sickly pinkish-green color, and as it settled on his skin, Spike could feel it tingling. He watched as small lesions appeared on his hands, growing in size with each second. A low growl escaped from his chest and he rumbled out, “You need to clear out, mate, or I’ll make sure you do.”  
  
Spike waited, giving the thing bare seconds to head for the tunnels. When it didn’t he shook off the numbing effects of the mist and raised his fist. With a deep, menacing growl, he swung hard at the thing, smashing his fist into the side of its head. The thing screeched, high-pitched and shrill, though not full-throated, sounding more like a muted whistle. Spike shook off the effects of the noise, tackling the thing around the waist. He slammed the creature into the wall of the crypt, groaning when some of its flesh oozed onto the sleeves and shoulders of his duster.  
  
He kept pounding it, punch after punch, while the thing just reformed every time he hesitated, the flesh knitting itself together. It looked far worse though, but Spike’s blows weren’t having much of an effect on it at all. Growing weary of the fruitless game and the need to find out where his children all were, Spike looked around for something to end this. Spying one of his old discarded candles on the ground near where his bed used to be, he swung the thing around, bringing it closer to his target.  
  
Swooping down following a blow that knocked out the beast’s lower jaw, Spike grabbed the end of the candle and reached into his jeans for the Zippo. Flicking open one end of it, Spike chuckled darkly and thrust the burning candle into the thing’s midsection. The candle nearly snuffed out from all the dripping, congealing mess hanging off the creature, then somehow it caught on something. It smoldered for a bit while Spike kept the creature off balance with repeated blows to the head.  
  
The creature teetered, obviously wounded – though for the life of him, Spike couldn’t figure out where or how he’d managed to really injure it – then fell back onto one of the beanbag shaped things. Sparks rose from the candle as it rolled down off the beast and bounced onto the beanbag and the whole thing shot up in bright green flames. Whatever foul smell had permeated the crypt intensified, driving Spike to his knees as he coughed. Flames shot up higher, traveling from one of the lumpy forms to another, igniting the webs and racing over whatever was flammable. Spike’s skin started to singe and he started edging for the bend in the tunnels, only to be driven back by the intense flames. Cursing steadily, Spike changed direction, aiming for the hatch to the upper level.  
  
Springing straight up, Spike pushed the hatch over, hanging on one handed while he used the other to heave himself up. Flames shot up, singeing his jeans and boots and Spike rolled over, trying to smother the fires before he was consumed. His curses increased as the demon’s burning flesh adhered to his, and he couldn’t get the flames to stay out. He was struggling to get the duster off when other hands pushed his away. Looking up, he saw Robbie and Jake smothering his body with theirs, while Connor pushed him back down to cover his head with his own jacket.  
  
“Dad! Oh, _shit_! Dad, stay still. Don’t move!”  
  
He didn’t fight them, just let them roll him over until all the flames were out and he was nothing more than just a smoky, smoldering mass of black leather huddled on the crypt floor. The three boys stood up, inching back away from him, as they sensed his tenuous hold on his temper. None of them spoke, nor did the girls watching from the doorway, Taryn and Annie hiding behind Ciara and peeking out at him.   
  
Spike looked from one to the other of them, his eyes lighting on all of them with equal fervor as he slowly got to his feet, testing out his limbs as he did so. “Don’t suppose one of you lot wants to tell me what the buggering hell is going on?”  
  
Robbie and Connor shared a look that he caught out of the corner of his eye and sensing one of the two would be more than willing to talk, he rounded on them. “Not that I’m ungrateful for the timely intervention jus’ now. . . but I’m wondering why in hell the lot of you are here at all, an’ not where you’re supposed to be?”  
  
Once more his eyes swept the six of them and he focused intently on Annie, noting how she hid her eyes from him. His own laser blue eyes bore into hers and he growled out, “Where’s your sister?”  
  
A mass of shuffling of feet and averted eyes were his only answer and he growled again, low and ominous. _“Where. Is. She?”_  
  
Annie dug her fingers into Ciara’s side, while Taryn whimpered and hid her face in the middle of her sister’s back. The quiet whisper of Annie’s voice broke the heavy silence.  
  
“She’s . . . not here.”  
  
Spike nearly roared his response back at her. “ ** _I bloody well know tha, don’t I?_** ” He clenched his jaw, glancing upwards for strength and patience and with a visible effort, managed to calm himself slightly. “Right. Let’s try it again, Annie. Where is she?”  
  
“Please don’t yell at me, Daddy. _Please?_ ” Annie fought tears but she valiantly faced her father. “She went back.”  
  
Memories assaulted him, Annie’s voice calling forward events that hadn’t happened . . . or rather as if they’d just happened. And then Spike knew. Knew where Kirsten was and what she’d done.  
  
“ _Bloody, buggering **fuck**!_ ” He whirled away from them, ripping off the top of the sarcophagus and heaving it against the far wall. The marble shattered with a resounding bang, shards exploding everywhere. The children scrambled for cover, Ciara pushing the two little girls down and shielding them with her body while the boys hunkered down and tried to cover their faces.  
  
“An’ you just _let_ her go? What the fuckin’ hell _were_ you thinkin’? Or were you even _thinkin_ ’ at all?”   
  
He roared again when Annie tried to speak, pointing a finger at her. “Go home. **_Now_**. Get yourself to your mother an’ don’t any of you leave the house. I’ll deal with you lot when I get there.”  
  
They paused, afraid to move and yet afraid to stay, until he roared again, making them scatter for the doorway. The crypt door banged shut behind Connor and Spike picked up the heavier pieces of marble, hefting them in his hands. He looked around at the crypt, kicked the wall, then dropped down into the lower level.  
  
He badly needed to kill something.

 

 

 


	9. An imponderably valuable gift

**_Nine.   An imponderably valuable gift_**  
  
 ** _Since time is the one immaterial object which we cannot influence --_**  
 ** _neither speed up nor slow down, add to nor diminish --_**  
 ** _it is an imponderably valuable gift._**  
 ** _Maya Angelou_**  
  
 ** _A watch can only tell us how much time it is,_**  
 ** _how much time has passed,_**  
 ** _or how much time must still pass before something will occur._**  
 ** _These statements are related not to time itself_**  
 ** _but only to its measurement or calculation._**  
 ** _Medard Boss_**  
  
 ** _Time is the most undefinable yet paradoxical of things;_**  
 ** _the past is gone, the future is not come,_**  
 ** _and the present becomes the past even while we attempt to define it,_**  
 ** _and, like the flash of lightning, at once exists and expires._**  
 ** _Charles Caleb Colton_**  
  
 ** _Time has been transformed,_**  
 ** _and we have changed;_**  
 ** _it has advanced and set us in motion;_**  
 ** _it has unveiled its face,_**  
 ** _inspiring us with bewilderment and exhilaration._**  
 ** _Kahlil Gibran, "Children of Gods, Scions of Apes"_**  
  
  
  
The earlier noises had all finally died away, and Kirsten had settled into a deep sleep almost as soon as Buffy left her. Footsteps and hushed whispers had sounded in the hallway, and Kirsten had sleepily opened one eye to see her mother and Pop peering in at the two of them. Figuring it was just a routine check, Kirsten just closed her eyes and went right back to sleep.  
  
She had no idea of the time, unable to see the alarm clock from her spot on the floor, but the sunlight was streaming in the window and the morning birds were chirping. Groaning at her sore muscles, Kirsten rolled over, disturbed by the whimpers coming from Dawn. She’d been stirring for the last couple of minutes, the drug-induced sleep beginning to wear off. Her previous sleep had been deep, Dawn unmoving and silent nestled beneath the comforter despite the noise in her room of three people talking. Instead of going to get Buffy, Kirsten decided to deal with Dawn’s distress on her own. Judging by the noises, Dawn was having nightmares. Figuring any comfort was better than none, Kirsten left her spot on the floor, climbing into the bed next to her.  
  
"Shhhh, Dawnie, I’ve got you."  
  
Dawn whimpered again, moving about restlessly, but when Kirsten reached for her hand, she settled down and the whimpering stopped.  
  
It wasn’t long before Kirsten also gave into sleep once more.  
  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
  
They filed quietly in the door, dropping backpacks in the hallway, each one of them sporting a grim expression. Both mothers were in the kitchen waiting for them. Robbie was the first one in the kitchen, Taryn curled up in his arms.   
  
"She threw up." He dropped her on one of the stools, stepping aside when Tara moved to take over.   
  
The silence was ominous and the children all knew the storm of Spike’s temper was one thing, but the combined wrath of their mothers was not something any of them wanted to face.  
  
Buffy stood by, watching the children as they filed into the kitchen, noting the scrapes and minor cuts marring faces and hands. The worst damaged seemed to be Taryn, who was sniffling and crying while her mother tended to her. Hiccups jerked her thin shoulders, and Tara handed her a cup of warm water, admonishing, "Drink it slowly, sweetie."  
  
Robbie had a nasty gash on the side of his cheek, so Buffy got out the first-aid kit, and motioned him to sit beside Taryn. Almost conversationally, without raising her voice at all, she started speaking. "Your father called. He’s pretty upset."  
  
None of them replied to her comment.  
  
"I want to know what you were doing and why." Her voice never changed its inflection and though the children all exchanged looks, her expression didn’t alter.  
  
"Mom." By unspoken agreement, Connor was the one to speak. "Mom, Annie had a vision and she told Kirstie about it."  
  
Buffy eyed her youngest girl, a speculative look entering her eyes. "What was the vision about?"  
  
"That daddy was gonna leave and go find . . . and he wasn’t ever going to come home again. Not _ever_." Annie folded her arms, her expression daring her mother to keep questioning her.  
  
"He was going to find who, Annie?" Mother and daughter faced off in the small space, neither one of them budging. "Tell me everything, Anne, and don’t you dare leave anything out."  
  
Annie growled, looking remarkably like her father, her blue eyes sparking with gold fire. "You sure you wanna know, Mom?"  
  
"Don’t you _dare_ take that tone of voice with me." Buffy’s temper was rising and the others shifted, surreptitiously moving away from the danger zone.  
  
“ _Fine_ , Mom.” Annie held her ground, her hands curling into small fists. "You and Daddy were fighting and fighting." She paused, looking away from her mother. "And he left, and went back to LA. Instead of coming home, he stayed there and he was with _her_ and we didn’t get to see him again and he didn’t love us anymore, because he had _her_ and she doesn’t like us and . . . _and_. . . Mom!"  
  
By the end, Annie was a mess of tears and snot and Buffy wasn’t much better. She’d stepped around the kitchen island to gather the small girl up in her arms, easily lifting her onto the counter near the sink. "Shhhh."   
  
After a minute, when Annie had calmed a little bit, Buffy leaned back and asked her again, "What _else_ did you see?"  
  
Calmed and a bit less distressed, Annie continued in a halting, disjointed way to reveal everything her vision had shown her. The others listened, spellbound, while the two women shared a look over Annie’s curls. Buffy had known that only something momentous could have been the reason a ten year old had managed to convince three teenagers to act.  
  
"Okay, I get that, Annie, but what happened with your sister?" Buffy ruffled the wild curls on her daughter’s head, idly struck by how much she was a combination of the two of them.   
  
Now the real tears started, slipping down her sun-kissed cheeks and falling easily onto her mother’s shirt. "I know why you and Daddy fight all the time."  
  
"What?" Buffy shook her head. "No, you really don’t, sweetheart."  
  
Annie buried her face into her mother’s shoulder. "You fight because of Dawnie."  
  
"Oh, _God_." Buffy choked back a sob, fighting the tears that suddenly sprang to her eyes. "No, that’s not what we fight about."  
  
"It is. You fight because Dawnie died. And that’s why Daddy left."  
  
Buffy pulled back, holding Annie at arm’s length by her small shoulders. "What makes you think that?"  
  
Annie’s jaw tightened in a look very reminiscent of her father. "I saw it, Mom."  
  
"You saw . . . " The implications of what her daughter must have seen hit Buffy with the force of a fyarl’s fist. " _What_ did you see?"  
  
"Angelus did it. And you got mad at Daddy because you were really sad . . . and Daddy got mad too." Annie tried explaining as best she could what had happened between her parents. "You started fighting and just never stopped."  
  
Silence filled the room as Buffy stared tearfully at her youngest daughter.   
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
The house was quiet for a long time, then the panicked cry of an infant pierced her sluggish awareness. Kirsten rolled over, her eyes barely cracking open. The familiar smells of being home were around her, just slightly off a little. Her eyes fluttered, opening a little, and she sat up, groaning loudly. A soft murmur broke from her mouth and Kirsten rubbed the sleep from her eyes. William’s . . . _no, that’s not Will_.  
  
Scrambling from the bed, Kirsten headed into the hallway. The bathroom door was wide open and she could hear her parent’s voices. Whatever they were talking about was urgent, and she stepped into the doorway.   
  
Spike was on the floor, up against the tub, with Dawn cradled in his arms. She was out cold, blood splattered all over the tub and dripping down her arm. Her bruises were dark, almost black and she didn’t look like she was breathing. A gasp caught in her throat, and Kirsten fought the rising panic surging through her. Understanding came swiftly and she merely said "Shit!", then, "I’ll get the baby."  
  
Suiting action to words, Kirsten did just that.  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
Connor shifted his feet, ducking his head, fighting the tears that would draw teasing from the other boys, only to catch a glimpse of Robbie brushing away his own tears. _Okay, so I’m not the only one who can’t stand to see her cry. Makes me feel better._  
  
"Where’s your father?" Buffy’s voice broke the silence pervading the kitchen, her tone anxious.  
  
Robbie sniffled, answering, "Dunno."   
  
"He said to get home, he’d be back later," Annie chimed in from her spot in their mother’s arms. "He was pretty angry."  
  
A reluctant chuckle sounded from Buffy and she shook her head. "Yeah, I can understand that."  
  
"There was something living in the crypt. Dad killed it, I think." Connor moved toward the refrigerator, needing to quench his suddenly parched throat. "Whatever it was smelled really freaking nasty."  
  
"Really?"   
  
All the kids answered, in various stages of disgust and emphasis. Taryn looked at her mother with a wrinkled nose, confiding, "It made me throw up."  
  
"Oh, dear." Tara brushed her daughter’s hair back, handing her some ginger ale. "Drink this, baby."  
  
"I’m not a baby, Mom. Will’um’s the baby now." Taryn’s look turned defiant and her jaw stiffened.  
  
Tara’s retort of "You’re still my baby," only gained her an eye rolling from the youngest.   
  
Robbie took a Yoo-Hoo from Connor, chugging it down quickly, before asking, "Do you want us to go look for Dad?"  
  
Buffy was shaking her head long before he finished speaking. "No. Don’t you think you’ve done enough damage for one day?" She paused, looking at the two boys. "Don’t think for one second this is gonna save you from getting in trouble."   
  
Thinking hard for another minute, she said, "Gather up all the dull weapons. You’re on sharpening duty."  
  
They didn’t dare groan or grumble, knowing this was just the start of things for them.  
  
As they were heading out the door, Tara’s voice reached them and Connor couldn’t help the snicker when Jake exclaimed "But, Mom! We weren’t even . . .”  
  
"Jacob William, I don’t want to hear how you weren’t a part of this. You and your sisters were there, too. So get out there."  
  
He grumbled and growled the whole way out the back door, slamming it shut behind him.   
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
Dawn was strapped down onto a rolling gurney, an IV drip inserted before Spike was finished dressing. By the time Buffy was tying her sneakers, the EMTs had Dawn out of the bathroom and in the hallway.  
  
Kirsten had a now quiet Connor in her arms, her features drawn and tearstained, watching the paramedics working efficiently on Dawn. They were trying to stabilize her and stop the bleeding from her wrist before they got her down the stairs.  
  
Spike walked past her, pulling on a shirt when he caught a glimpse of her expression. "Not your fault, princess."  
  
She glanced up at him, a sad look on her face. "I know. I should’ve watched better, though."  
  
He was shaking his head. "Not you, too. Buffy’s blaming herself f’r all this, ‘m tellin’ you what I’m tellin’ her. ‘S not your fault. Niblet’s been low since. . . well, long time now. ‘S nothin’ to do with anyone but herself." Spike shook his head. "Girl needs time."  
  
Moving past her, he squeezed her shoulder, then realized something. "Gonna need you to stay put with the sprog. Will you do that?"  
  
She answered him without thinking, then blushed darkly. "Yeah, sure, Daddy."  
  
"Keep that quiet." He shook his head, heading for the stairs and Buffy.  
  
Kirsten stared down at them as he joined Buffy at the bottom of the stairs. She couldn’t see out the door from where she was, but she figured the paramedics were putting Dawn into the ambulance. Spike touched Buffy, jolting her back to herself. "Go with them, I’ll meet you at hospital."  
  
"I can’t. . . I can’t go." She refused to look at him, tears sliding unchecked down her cheeks.  
  
"Yeah, you can. I’ll be there just after. Kirsten’s gonna stay with the sprog. Everythin’ ‘ll be fine. Go on, now." He nudged her toward the door, unmindful of the sunlight.  
  
"Promise you’ll be there?" Buffy looked up at him then and he wiped away the tears from her cheeks.  
  
"Right behind you. Go on." He pushed her again and she ran from the house, jumping up lightly into the back of the ambulance. One of the EMTs slammed the doors behind her and Spike watched as the ambulance took off.  
  
Closing the door, he turned around, heading right for the stairs.  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
It was barely dark enough for him to be out and about, much less fighting. Any stray shaft of sunlight could catch him, and when he fought, he didn’t pay attention to that. Besides, he was so worked up over what had happened earlier, that he just didn’t care. _So what if I get singed._   
  
Spike was in a rare mood.   
  
He couldn’t remember ever being this angry. Not even when he was living with Angelus and Darla. This was beyond rage. His hands were shaking with it and his entire body thrummed with the need to wreck havoc on something.  
  
Even when Willow had ripped Buffy from heaven, he’d been able to control the rage, clamping down hard on the anger coursing through him in order to keep Buffy safe. This was different.  
  
His children – the ones he never expected to have after Drusilla sank her teeth into his flesh the first time – had been in danger. For all he could grasp, Kirsten was still in danger. Spike closed his eyes, trying to focus on the bond he had with her, meeting with nothing but the fuzzy, distant feeling he’d encountered earlier. It did nothing to temper his rage, only fed the flames higher.  
  
There wasn’t anything around worth fighting either.   
  
Sunnydale was relatively quiet these days, only springing to insane levels when the Hellmouth flared or some demon managed to slip past his perimeter and make the foolish attempt to open the Hellmouth. There was a momentary pang within his gut, a wish for the old days when there was no end to the amount of bad guys roaming the streets of Sunnydale.  
  
He stopped dead in his tracks. _Where the hell had that thing come from, and more importantly, what the hell was it?_  
  
Spike turned on his heels, heading straight for the Magic Box. _Rupert’s goin’ to need to know ‘bout this one._  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
Kirsten stood at the bottom of the stairs, listening to Spike stomp and curse. The occasional thump of something hitting the wall indicated his temper wasn’t in danger of going away anytime soon.   
  
Connor was staring at her, tiny face scrunched as if trying to figure out who she was and why she was here, and Kirsten found herself babbling out loud to him. "I know this is crazy, I shouldn’t even be here yet and it’s just . . . okay, so maybe I _shouldn’t_ have come back, but you know I did the right thing, even if they are mad at me. It’d be worse if Dawnie were gone. . . Mom would be completely out of her mind and Daddy’d be. . . Daddy would‘ve taken off and he’d be gone for a while and Mom would get worse and it’d be all messed up and . . .”  
  
Her voice trailed off in a sob and Kirsten held onto the baby tighter, afraid to say anything else. The baby, as if understanding why suddenly there were tears falling onto his face, reached up a hand. His tiny fingers pinched Kirsten’s lips closed, putting a stop to the flow of words coming from her mouth.  
  
She sobbed a bit, holding onto Connor tightly, heavy tears falling from her eyes, softly whispered words emerging. "I had to come back. I _had_ to."  
  
Spike stomped down the stairs, having heard nearly every word, and stared at the two of them. Noting the tears falling from Kirsten’s eyes and the sorrowful look on her face, he decided against questioning her about what she’d just blubbered about. "Princess?"  
  
"I _had_ to, Daddy. Please don’t be mad at me." She hung back, afraid he was about to lash out and verbally flay her for the incredible risk she’d taken.  
  
Spike nodded, unsure of what exactly to say. He couldn’t yell at her, not at this moment, couldn’t be the cause of any more tears. His girls had cried enough for one day. "C’mere, princess."  
  
His arms opened, the bundle of clothes falling to the floor beside him, and Kirsten slipped easily into his arms with a soft cry, the baby cuddled between them.  
  
Neither one of them spoke for long minutes.  
  
Tiny fingers pushed against his chest, tugging on the soft cotton. Barely heard gurgles of nonsense finally disturbed the quite surrounding the three of them. Kirsten couldn’t remember the last time she’d had her father’s attention like this and part of her was basking in the moment. A larger part of her, though, realized she was stealing a moment that rightfully belonged to Dawn.   
  
"I’m sorry, Daddy."  
  
He pulled back to look at her, his eyes tracing the contours of her face. "What for, pidge?"  
  
"Keeping you here." Kirsten stepped back, moving out of the shelter of his embrace. "You need to be with Mom and Dawn."  
  
Spike was shaking his head. "Not even there yet. ‘Sides, need to make sure you’re all set with being alone. You want me to get the witches?"  
  
 _Something about_ . . . Kirsten knew she couldn’t tell him not to trust Willow, but she could tell him she was fine on her own. Just as long as she remembered not to tell him why she was okay taking care of an infant. "Nah, I’m okay. I’ve done this before."  
  
The familiar look of his raised eyebrow made her smile through the tears pooling in her eyes. "Are you? ‘M not gonna ask how or who." He nodded his head, stooping down to pick up the bundled items he’d dropped earlier. "Need to get going, princess. ‘F you need anythin’ you call Rupert."  
  
Kirsten shook her head. "He’ll ask too many questions."  
  
Spike was rolling his eyes at her stubborn reluctance to include anyone else. "You do know you can trust him, yeah?"  
  
"I _know_ I can trust _him_. _He_ doesn’t know he can trust _me_ , Dad." The exasperation in her tone reminded him forcefully of just who’s DNA she’d inherited.  
  
Conceding her point, he shrugged, letting it go. "All right. We’ll be at hospital. Don’t leave the house."  
  
With one last hug and a kiss on her forehead, Spike beat a hasty exit to the nearest manhole.


	10. Time enough to find a world

**_Ten Time enough to find a world_**  
  
  
 ** _All are architects of Fate,_**  
 ** _Working in these walls of Time._**  
 ** _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, The Builders._**  
  
 ** _One day with life and heart_**  
 ** _Is more than time enough to find a world._**  
 ** _James Russell Lowell, Columbus._**  
  
 ** _Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world_**  
 ** _Like a Colossus, and we petty men_**  
 ** _Walk under his huge legs and peep about_**  
 ** _To find ourselves dishonourable graves._**  
 ** _Men at some time are masters of their fates:_**  
 ** _The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,_**  
 ** _But in ourselves, that we are underlings._**  
 ** _Julius Cæsar. Act i. Sc. 2_**  
  
 ** _The illimitable, silent, never-resting thing called Time,_**  
 ** _rolling, rushing on, swift, silent, like an all-embracing ocean-tide,_**  
 ** _on which we and all the universe swim like exhalations,_**  
 ** _like apparitions which are, and then are not...._**  
 ** _Thomas Carlyle_**  
  
  
He was halfway to Rupert's flat when he realized it.  
  
Sticking his hand out into a shaft of direct sunlight, Spike stared at the glaringly white pallor of his skin. He started counting, running the numbers off in his head. The instant he hit five hundred, he knew something fundamental had changed, he just wasn't entirely certain what.  
  
At six hundred and fifty, his skin started smoldering.  
  
He snatched his hand back into the shadows, staring at the reddened flesh, his thoughts careening from one idea to another. Pacing back and forth in the shade of one of Sunnydale's taller buildings, Spike realized his instinct to head to Rupert's was looking better and better in light of his most recent discovery.  
  
Breaking into a rapid pace, almost running, Spike dodged recklessly in and out of shadows, using his new found invulnerability. _Could get used to this. . ._  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
They'd sent the two youngest up to Annie's room, with admonishments to keep the noise to a minimum because William was sleeping in the next room. Ciara went out with the boys, another armful of weapons in her grasp. Neither of the women spoke until Buffy moved to the cabinet, automatically getting out the makings for real hot chocolate. _Guess this really is a tradition in this house . . . Not much else you can do when you don't have any answers._  
  
"Buffy?"  
  
Her attention finally snagged, the shorter blond turned to look at her companion, waiting for her to continue.  
  
"Something's changed."  
  
"Yeah. I'm no longer so mad I can't see straight." She huffed out a breath. "And hey, my children are almost all safe. So that's a plus."  
  
"No, that's not what I mean." Tara shook her head, pointing to the basement door. "Look."  
  
The calendar she'd long ago taken to hanging on the door was there, which wasn't at all unusual. What were unusual were the notations on the calendar. Buffy looked closer, then shared a look with Tara. Reluctant footsteps brought her closer, and Buffy's eyes grew wide, filling with tears as she moved closer and closer. "Tara?"  
  
"Do you remember?"  
  
Eyes wild, almost golden with disbelief, Buffy turned to face the older woman. Her voice was a strangled whisper. "I do."  
  
The low murmur of the teenagers receded, almost disappearing as her ears were filled with the sights and sounds of a cold, crisp night in late December, more than sixteen years ago. Dawn, huddled over the dead body of her boyfriend, screaming and crying her grief out to the heavens, while Buffy held her away from the blood and gore. Wesley, pacing behind them, his voice concerned and worried - and Spike. _Fighting with Angel._ Buffy closed her eyes against the threatening tears and replayed the moment over and over in her head. . .   
  
And realized exactly the moment those memories had changed and what had changed them.  
  
 _Kirsten._  
  
Her daughter had somehow managed to bend time and change the past.  
  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
  
Rupert was listening with half an ear; his mind more on the journals laid out in front of him. The instant Spike had started speaking, he'd headed directly for his private journals, hoping to find some mention of the phenomenon Spike was describing. Spike's voice was a rumbling counterpoint to the silent words on the page, when he realized that voice had stopped speaking.  
  
He looked up to see the vampire standing at the window, his attention snagged by something only he could see. Giles watched him for long moments, idly noting to himself that he hadn't seen him this quiet in a long while. The lack of movement was beginning to concern him. "Spike?"  
  
"Fuckin' hell, Rupes." Spike turned away from the window, turning haunted eyes on the former Watcher. "She did it."  
  
"What's that?" Now he was truly concerned, because of the almost resigned look on the other Englishman's face.  
  
"Kirsten. ‘M daughter did the damn near impossible. Somehow figured out how to change things an' she saved Dawn."  
  
The glasses came off, handkerchief polishing as Rupert peered at him myopically. "Say that again?"  
  
"Christ, Watcher, ‘m not sure I can suss out the whole thing in m' head." He huffed out an unnecessary breath, and for the first time since he'd entered the house, Giles caught the fine tremor of Spike's hands. Whatever had happened had him rattled, far more than he'd ever been. "Seems ‘ve got some interesting progeny."  
  
A dry laugh escaped from Rupert's mouth. "Yes, well, I'm certain of that." He replaced his glasses. "Now tell me what's going on."  
  
"Near as I can figure it, Kirsten somehow managed to travel back to the night Dawnie died." At a look of complete confusion on the other man's face, Spike held up his hand, "Jus' hear me out."  
  
When Giles nodded his agreement to remain silent while he recounted all his jumbled memories, Spike inhaled deeply then launched into the whole story. It took him long minutes, and Rupert spent most of it staring at the vampire, his jaw clamped tightly so that it didn't gape open in surprise. When he finally ran out of words, Spike slumped back against the wall, his hands fidgeting nervously with a priceless Sumerian dagger. He was obviously waiting for some reaction from Giles, and for the life of him, Rupert couldn't find the words to start.  
  
"You do realize the tremendous risks the child took to save someone she'd never met." He glanced down, his eyes riveted upon a Christmas portrait, one taken when the teenagers were all babies, plopped haphazardly in front of a lit tree. Giles picked it up, showing it to the vampire. "Something truly dire must have threatened for her to take such risks."  
  
"Her older sister died, ‘s what happened."  In Spike's mind that was more than enough reason to traverse time and space. There wasn't anything he wouldn't do to keep those he loved safe. Even the old man standing in front of him and shaking his head in denial.  
  
"No, Spike, I mean in her original time line."  
  
Spike lost his temper. "Are you listenin' to me? ‘Ve been sayin' it. Dawn died. Kirsten must've found out."  
  
Giles looked back at him, his own temper flaring. "And you're not listening to me." He peered at the agitated vampire, holding up a hand to silence another outburst. "Hear me out. Dawn died long before Kirsten was born, right?" At Spike's reluctant nod, he continued, "So then something else must have occurred to convince Kirsten that taking such an inordinate risk was worth it."  
  
The logic behind Rupert's statements gave Spike pause and something further to think about. He paced through the living room, his heavy boots the only noise in the house. Casting his mind through the miasma of memories swirling in his head, all jumbled together with little sense of what was and then wasn't, Spike tried focusing on threads of events. _Start with the beginning, mate. . ._  
  
 _Dawn._  
  
It always came back to Dawn.  
  
Her death had pulled apart what nothing else could have - his relationship with Buffy. Their bond hadn't faltered though, only been stretched nearly beyond all limits. Buffy hadn't ever stopped blaming him, unable to blame herself for not protecting their child, taking out all her anger and grief and hurt on him, laying it on his shoulders. He hadn't been much better, lashing back at her when the sharp edge of her tongue became too much for him to take, fighting back when she swung her fists instead of merely slinging harsh words.  
  
They'd both been to blame for the mess their relationship had become.  
  
Snippets of old memories flashed in his head, the twins and Connor crying in their cribs, reacting to the shouting and anger swirling through the house on Revello Drive. Spike stopped pacing, cocking his head to the side as more and more memories surfaced. They'd damaged their other children for want of Dawn. He huffed out an unnecessary breath, regret for his part swamping him. He'd wanted so much more for them.  
  
He and Buffy had spent years fighting the claim - fighting each other - _and to what end?_ Because neither could face nor forgive what happened that cold December night. Truth was; neither of them had been at fault. Neither he nor Buffy had put Dawn in harm's way. That had been Willow, in her misguided and dangerous attempt to oust Spike from Buffy's life. Nor had either of them been the ones to physically hurt Dawn; her blood was on Angel's already stained hands.  
  
Kirsten and Robbie had spent the first five, almost six years of their lives without a father. Annie wouldn't have been born if Kirsten hadn't gotten sick. And little William . . .   
  
Spike had been so tired of fighting his need for Buffy that he'd come home, hoping the sharp edges of her anger had finally been laid to rest, hoping for a reconciliation. They'd lasted almost a whole year until something trivial and stupid set them off. He'd barely been out of Sunnydale a week, when he'd had to turn right around and come back, because William was born only two weeks into Buffy's sixth month.  
  
He scrubbed a hand over his face, hiding the sudden tears from Rupert. No wonder Kirsten went back.  
  
Any risk had to be worth it.  
  
Saving Dawn had saved them all.  
  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
  
Robbie was running the whetstone over the edges of his mother's favorite sword. He was ignoring the others around him, his thoughts focused on Kirsten and what was happening. They'd been outside for almost an hour, and nearly all the weapons were honed to a razor's edge, only the bigger ones were left to finish. He looked up, about to say something to Connor, when he realized his brother was no longer there.  
  
Every muscle stilled, tensed with alert confusion. He scanned the backyard, checking out the shadows, hoping to find Connor lurking there. Nothing. Not a trace of him was left in the yard. Not even the weapons he'd been working on were in the spot he should have left them. Instead, there were more weapons in the unfinished pile. Robbie shook his head, trying to clear it.  
  
 _Connor should be here. What the hell is happening now?_  
  
Jake's voice got his attention and Robbie nearly wigged when he registered the gist of his query. "Dude, is your older brother coming home soon? My dad said his latest job was over. Any news?"  
  
He bit his tongue on the snarky retort, instead answering, "I'm not sure. Dad never said when he might be home."  
  
"Oh. I was hoping maybe he'd show me those moves he made in that fight with the ‘Gnorak demon." Jake kept talking, unaware of how freaked Robbie was getting with each word. His heart started thundering in his ears and he could hear the rasp of each breath as it escaped his lungs. Everything receded, disappearing, even the sound of Jake's voice. Robbie looked up, trying to force sensation into his body, and before Jake or Ciara could react, he pitched forward, out cold. His head thunked hard on the wooden steps, alerting the others to his predicament.  
  
Jake jumped to his feet while Ciara moved to lift Robbie's head from the steps."Shit! What the hell happened now?"  
  
"Looks like Kirstie is heading back." His sister looked up at him with dark eyes. "I hope. You better go get his mom."  
  
"Yeah. Right." Jake stared down at the slumped form of his best friend, wondering what else was going to go wrong.   
  
"Jake?"  
  
"Right. I'm going."  
  
He was gone before Ciara realized Robbie's head had started bleeding.  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
Kirsten followed behind Spike as he boldly walked them past the emergency room security guard, a backpack full of baby supplies slung over her shoulders. Connor had been fussing, whiny and fitful since he'd woken up from his afternoon nap, enough so Kirsten had seriously thought of heading out for the hospital on her own. She'd been shoving necessities into the backpack when Spike burst through the door, bellowing her name.  
  
Ten minutes later they were on their way back to the hospital, Connor strapped into his car seat and Spike anxious to be gone.  
  
So now here she was, walking into the room containing her mother and sister. Kirsten shook off the eeriness, forcing away the total weirdness. Dawn was safe now; as safe as possible, anyway. She knew it, could sense it. Two sets of memories walked side by side through her mind, and Kirsten fought the impulse to tell them everything she knew. Although doing that might be much worse than what she'd already done, and she knew her father wouldn't want that.  
  
It was time. Time to go back - well, forward. She sighed at herself. Return to where she belonged. She knew the spell blocking their memories was about to be broken and they too would be returning to what should be.  
  
Her eyes swept the small examining room, noting the twitching figure on the gurney, Dawn's dark hair hanging down off the side. Buffy –  _no, Mom_ –  was facing the door, her eyes flickering between fear and amusement as she shifted her gaze between Dawn and Spike. Lines of fatigue bracketed her mouth and Kirsten found herself comparing her with the Mom she'd left behind. . .   
  
And then there was Spike. Her Daddy.  
  
What had happened to the cynical, almost broken man who'd finally come home?  
  
Kirsten sighed, drawing their attention. Physically they looked pretty much the same, but she knew the intervening fifteen or so years had wrought an emotional toll on them, ravaging them both.   
  
She realized, at that precise moment, staring at them both, while Connor gurgled happily in his bouncy chair, that the decision she and the other two had made had been the right one. Their intentions had been pure – almost completely selfless – and in saving Dawn, they'd saved all of them.  
  
A crooked smile so like her mother's crossed her features, and both blondes recognized it. Surprising everyone, including herself, Kirsten burst into tears.  
  
Buffy was the first to reach her, her arms encircling her, and for the first heart-stopping moment since she'd walked through time, Kirsten touched her mother.  
  
"Hey, it's okay." Wiping away the tears, Buffy glanced down into the teen's eyes. Understanding came on reluctant feet and try as she might to fight it, Buffy couldn't play denial girl. "Time to go, huh?"  
  
Kirsten slowly nodded her head, unwilling to meet either of their eyes.  
  
Spike had moved closer, standing just behind Buffy, his eyes watching both of them intently. His expression darkened as he watched two of his girls, and he found himself memorizing Kirsten's features, imprinting them in his head.   
  
It was done. Now it was time to let her go back, and Spike found himself fighting the urge to beg her to stay, knowing how very impossible that urge was. Buffy pulled back a little, her eyes scanning Kirsten's face as Spike's arm stole around her waist, his left-hand curving over the lines of Buffy's still flat belly. Her right hand linked with his and her left brushed the hair back from Kirsten's face. It was a gesture she used often with Dawn and Buffy's eyes filled with tears again.  
  
"Yeah. I have . . . I need to go back." Her voice hitched and broke more than once, like some weird vocal roller coaster, and Kirsten tried hard to keep from crying again. She shook her head once, fighting the tears and stepped back away from their embrace. "I know it's like, really uncool to say it . . . " Kirsten made a funny face, scrunching up her nose, and continued, "But, I just. . . . I love you."  
  
Buffy reached for her again, but Kirsten shook her head and stepped further away. "I gotta go."   
  
With a last look into both their eyes, Kirsten headed for the door. It was only Spike's voice that stopped her. "How're you getting back to where you're supposed to be?"  
  
She paused with her hand on the doorknob, looking at them over her shoulder. "Same way I got here, I just kinda . . . close my eyes and make it happen."  
  
" _Jus' close your eyes?_ What in fuckin' hell . . . What the bloody hell do you mean, just close your eyes?" His agitation, which had been hovering at dangerous levels for hours now, rose again, and only Buffy's hand on his arm held him back.  
  
"Look, I don't really know how to explain it. Pop does a better job than I do, but then, he's good at this kind of stuff. All I know is I can make time . . . I can sorta make time kinda fold in on itself." She shrugged, then relented at the looks on their faces. "I don't know exactly how I can do it. It's like Dawn's ability to open dimensional walls and Connor's freaky super strength, and - " She paused, thinking better of letting slip anything else. "So, yeah, it's like that. Super side benefits of being hybrids."  
  
"If you can do that, princess, why is it you need to leave this room?" Spike was suspicious, and there was a lot of this he was taking on faith that someday he'd understand it all, but he wasn't exactly thrilled with everything that was happening.  
  
"I don't. Not really. I'm just kinda . . . "  
  
"Used to sneaking around?" Once she thought about it, that scenario made so much more sense than any other, and Buffy just had to say it.  
  
Looking for all the world like the busted teen that she was, Kirsten just gaped at her parents. "Um, yeah, I guess."  
  
Buffy and Spike shared a look Kirsten didn't want to understand, but she thought maybe she did, and when Buffy spoke, she was sure of it. "Did you think we wouldn't figure it out? I used to sneak out of my house all the time, trying to hide what I was doing from Mom. Even after she knew, I still climbed out the window some nights."  
  
There wasn't anything Kirsten could say to either of them, and she had the sinking feeling she and her siblings were never going to be able to get away with much. A deep sigh emerged from her and Kirsten didn't meet their eyes. "I really have to go."  
  
Neither one of them spoke, waiting for Kirsten's next move. She stepped forward to hug them one more time and smiled nervously when Spike whispered, "I'll see you after, bit."  
  
Hiding the frisson of fear creeping down her back, she stood away from them, and ducked her head, unwilling to meet his intense gaze. "Okay, Daddy."  
  
She closed her eyes, concentrated on her own heartbeat, ignoring the sounds from the others in the room with her. Time slowed as her heartbeat did and Kirsten concentrated on the last thing she'd seen in her time line. . . and her connection with Robbie. Focusing heavily on that, Kirsten felt the edges of her consciousness alter; thinning, stretching out endlessly, and she took a step forward. While Buffy and Spike looked on, she disappeared.  
  
Her last thought as darkness closed around her was - _I've just got one more thing to do before I go home._


	11. Annihilate but space and time

**_Eleven.  Annihilate but space and time_**  
  
  
 ** _Ye Gods! annihilate but space and time,_**  
 ** _And make two lovers happy._**  
 ** _Alexander Pope, Martinus Scriblerus on the Art of Sinking in Poetry. Chap. xi._**  
  
 ** _This is the third time;_**  
 ** _I hope good luck lies in odd numbers…_**  
 ** _There is divinity in odd numbers, either in nativity, chance, or death._**  
 ** _The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act v. Sc. 1_**  
  
 ** _Falling through this space in time-_**  
 ** _Buried in this hurt of mine._**  
 ** _Falling slowly, like a dream._**  
 ** _Falling through a world unseen._**  
 ** _Why can I not break this spell?_**  
 ** _I'm in darkness, is this hell?_**  
 ** _Falling towards this whole I see._**  
 ** _This is how it has to be!_**  
 ** _Caught in the corners of my mind!_**  
 ** _Beginning over one more time!_**  
 ** _Taking me over, taking all that's mine!_**  
 ** _One more time!_**  
 ** _Korn, One more time, from the album Untouchables (2002)_**  
  
  
Kirsten focused intently, willing her body to make the change before she returned to where she belonged. The disruption caused her stomach to roll and cold sweat broke out along her hairline and down the nape of her neck. _Oh, crap. I’m so not sure this is the right way to do this. . ._  
  
Gulping hard, trying desperately to control the nausea threatening to overcome her, Kirsten reached out a hand. Finding a smooth wall under her touch calmed her somewhat and the disorientation eased a little.  
  
Closing her eyes after opening them briefly, Kirsten breathed out a prayer of thanks. _Okay, so here I am, back home. . . when am I here though?_ Leaning her head against the door, breathing slowly to calm her thumping heart, Kirsten strained her ears for any sounds. The house was dark, only the reflected glow of lights from downstairs breaking the gloom. It took her a moment to figure out why the lights blinked, realization coming with the scent of gingerbread and pine. _Christmas. . . okay. What year?_  
  
Steady now on her feet, Kirsten moved away from the bedroom door. Soft footsteps made barely an indent, a skill her father had insisted she – all of them really – perfect. She’d been the first to master the lessons, learning much quicker than the rest. The thought of all of them gave her a moment’s pause and Kirsten stifled the sob threatening to bubble up from her chest. _Can’t think about that. Need to do this first._  
  
 _Just have to make sure this was the right thing to do. Gotta make sure everything’s changed._  
  
The low murmur of voices, especially her father’s rolled through the hallway. Kirsten moved closer to the source, her brain registering the voices were emerging from what was now her room – which meant this moment she’d come back to was before she and Robbie were born. Leaning her head against the door frame, Kirsten tuned out all the other noises, concentrating on what was being said behind the closed door.  
  
It took a moment or two, but she caught her mother’s voice, saying, “Are you okay?”  
  
There was a definite pause, then the clear sound of her father’s snort of amusement came through the door. “Yeah. ‘M bloody fine. Question is, how’re you?”  
  
Her mother’s answer came quickly on the heels of his question, and Kirsten almost giggled out loud at the tone of her voice. Her mother sounded positively chipper. “I’m okay.”  
  
Silence reigned for a few minutes and she couldn’t hear anything further. Kirsten very nearly moved away from the door, when her mother’s next question broke the silence. “Spike. . .are you okay with this?”  
  
 _Huh? Okay with what? What’s going on that he needs to be okay with it? When am I . . ._ She huffed out a silent breath, hoping her father didn’t pick up her rapid heartbeat. _Calm down and just listen. . .even though this is beyond ooky, listening to them in bed._ A shudder shook her shoulders and Kirsten fought a giggle, wondering what Robbie would have to say about her doing this.  
  
She came back to the present, finally registering what her father was saying. “Never thought, not in a hundred years, there’d be more ‘en jus’ the life Dru gave me. Never. . . stopped hopin’ after a bit, jus’ gave up. And _then_ ,” he paused and Kirsten could hear the raw emotion coloring his voice. Somehow she imagined he was fighting tears, that maybe they both were.   
  
“ _Then_ there was you. Threw me for a loop you did. Turned me upside down. Made me _want_ things again. Gave me m’dreams back. I love you, Buffy. With all that I am. Man. Monster. Every last part of me.”  
  
Tears filled her own eyes, and she wondered again, if she should just turn and leave them alone, because this moment was really not something she should be listening in on. “Now. . . now you’ve given me the world. You. . . This is _my_ baby in your belly. . . _mine_.”  
  
 _Holy shit!_  
  
 _This is. . . oh man, oh man. This is it. This is when Mom told him. Oohhhhh. . ._  
  
Kirsten was so lost in her thoughts, she never heard the rest of what was said, zoning out at the reality of what she was hearing. There was no doubt now, that she hadn’t done the right thing by returning to the past and changing what happened. As she turned to leave, the last thing she heard was her mother saying, “Spike, I love you.”  
  
With a small smile, Kirsten closed her eyes and disappeared.  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
 _One last place to go. And then I swear, I’m going back home and I’m gonna sleep for a damn week. I don’t care. . . Every inch of me aches. I can’t stand this._  
  
Almost visibly wrenching herself in-mid change, Kirsten focused on Dawn, reaching through the ephemera to find her essence and latch on to it, holding on with mystical bonds. Gritting her teeth against the pain, Kirsten moved once more through time and space.  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
The ring of the telephone pulled Buffy from her reverie and she answered automatically, not focusing on the voice at the other end, until the words truly registered.  
  
“Buffy? Are you listening to me at all?”  
  
“Huh?” The commotion of Jake rushing into the kitchen, breathlessly calling for his mother’s attention, distracted Buffy and she only responded when the disembodied voice became more agitated.  
  
“You’re not listening.”  
  
“Yeah, I am. Sorry. Jake just came in babbling about something.” Buffy turned her back to the two, trying to focus on the content of the conversation, rather than the other person.   
  
“We’re gonna be a little late on Saturday. Is that okay?”  
  
Jake’s tone became more strident, concern fueling his rapid-fire speech and Buffy realized he was talking about Robbie and something happening to him. “Dawnie, look I gotta go. Robbie’s hurt.”  
  
“Go. Call me later.”  
  
“You bet.”  
  
It wasn’t until she’d hung up the phone and was following Jake out the door that Buffy finally recognized the import of what had just occurred. _That was Dawn. . ._  
  
As she stepped out into the late afternoon sunshine, Buffy’s memories threatened to overwhelm her, and the sudden fear riding her belly worsened when she looked down to see her oldest son out cold.  Robbie’s head was in Ciara’s lap, blood seeping from his nose and a small cut on his head, just over his right eye.  For a moment, all the emotions roiled through her and Buffy faltered, nearly dropping to her knees from the onslaught.  
  
“Robbie?!”  
  
Ciara looked up, her eyes filled with worry and a hint of unshed tears. “We were talking about stuff and he just, got all googly-eyed and really pale and just passed out.”  
  
“This happened before?”  
  
“Yeah.” Jake stood on the top step, looking down where Buffy had crouched next to Robbie’s side. “Whenever Kirsten goes back, it happens.”  
  
The two older women shared a look, then Buffy lifted Robbie from Ciara’s hold, easily hefting his bigger body in her arms. Jake balanced Robbie’s head as Buffy steadied herself on the steps. Tara held the back door open, motioning her children to stay where they were.  
  
“Clean up the weapons and bring them inside.”  
  
Neither woman said anything further as Buffy carried Robbie into the living room and laid him on the couch.  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
It was the easiest thing in the world to convince Dawn’s brainless best-friend Janice that they’d been in kindergarten and first grade together. Kirsten had to hold back the laughter that kept threatening to overtake her every time Janice came up with a new memory. Ten minutes was all the time she’d needed to insinuate herself into Janice’s life.  
  
And it wasn’t any harder to convince Dawn – knowing what she did – that she’d known her for years also, though Kirsten did feel a tiny bit of guilt over using Dawn’s own confessions against her.   
  
So now, here she was, back inside the house she’d grown up in, looking around with new eyes. There were differences, all of them easy to spot, considering she knew exactly what to look for. Pictures of her grandmother adorned the walls, some with her mother and Dawn. Evidence of other people living in the house was apparent – college textbooks mixed with older, more arcane tomes – and a swathe of black leather draped over the newel post at the bottom of the stairs. Kirsten knew when she was, she’d purposely come back to this point in time, knowing her mother wasn’t here.  
  
The why – and where – of her mother’s location was something Kirsten refused to dwell on.  
  
Her purpose was to give her father hope so that he didn’t fall into despair and be unable to help her mother when she returned.   
  
The house was quiet and from the hushed tone of Dawn’s voice, Kirsten got the feeling her father was sleeping somewhere. A quick glance at the clock told her it was his normal sleep time, so she went along with the other two girls. They were in the kitchen, an array of snacks and soda piled on the island, excited chatter coming from Janice in between mouthfuls of snacks. Kirsten’s attention wasn’t on the nonsense spouting from the other two, she was lost in her own thoughts and didn’t realize Spike had entered the kitchen until she heard the basement door squeak.  
  
In her surprise, Kirsten let out a very girly “Eeeep”, which captured Spike’s complete attention.  
  
Dawn and Janice shared a glance and then giggled a bit, while Spike just raised an eyebrow in question. Ambling over to the refrigerator, Spike passed Dawn and pulled on her hair. “Who’s this then?”  
  
“Spike, this is Kirsten.”  
  
She couldn’t stop the deep blush coloring her face and Kirsten tried hiding her reaction from him. _So didn’t expect him to come up from the basement._ Spike nodded at the introduction, still half asleep. Kirsten let out a softly mumbled “Hey.”   
  
He hadn’t bothered to put on a shirt, nor button his pants up completely, and his hair was a mass of unruly curls. It was disconcerting for Kirsten to see him that way, at least without her mother around looking equally disheveled.   
  
Dawn continued speaking, her tone of voice indicating she wasn’t entirely happy with the way someone was ogling his torso, “Kirsten, this is Spike, my _sister’s_ boyfriend.”  
  
Kirsten couldn’t believe what she was hearing and she barely had a chance to cover her surprise from the others. As Spike swung around to face Dawn, Kirsten caught a glimpse of his expression and the pain and despair reflected in his eyes made her heart contract. His face was impassive, though the tensing of his jaw was a dead give-away he wasn’t entirely happy with what Dawn had just said. “Bit?”   
  
Dawn raised an eyebrow, looking pointedly at the girls, silently communicating that this was the best cover she could come up with, waiting for him to understand. He caught on, just after Kirsten did, and he quickly started speaking, covering his little slip. “Right. Where’s my stuff?”  
  
“Um, I put it in the freezer.”  
  
His impatience with the whole conversation was evident when he slammed the door closed, then ripped open the freezer, looking for his blood supply. He started to rip it out, his temper inexplicably getting the better of him, then he abruptly realized who it was in the kitchen with him. Resting his head on the open freezer door, Spike sighed deeply.  
  
Sympathy flooded through Kirsten. She knew that sigh, could hear the defeat and pain easily. Her father looked so tired and broken. “You ok?”  
  
Spike shifted his head, looking down at her from beneath lowered dark lashes. “‘M fine, just tired is all. Work nights.”  
  
 _Nice cover, Daddy. Really slick. Too bad I know the truth. Work equals slayage in this family._ Kirsten wanted to reach out and give him the hug it appeared he so desperately needed. Instead, she blurted out the first thing that came to her mind. “My dad works nights, so I know how it is. Did we wake you up?”  
  
He somehow sensed her desire to get closer to him, and obviously misinterpreting it, stepped back away from her. Kirsten followed, her footsteps mirroring his. A sparkle entered her eyes, making them appear purple, triggering his internal alarms. Spike stepped further away, into the patch of sunlight, and Kirsten automatically pulled him away from it before he could react. Her whisper took him by surprise, “Shouldn’t do that. You could get all crispy.”   
  
Kirsten realized a half second too late what she’d just done. _Oh, shit! What the hell am I gonna do now? How do I fix this one?_ Scrambling to come up with some sort of reason why and how she knew about his undead status, Kirsten could only come up with one possible answer.   
  
_Prophecy._  
  
 _Yup. That’ll work._  
  
Taking a deep breath, Kirsten prepared to lie to the one person she’d never been able to fool.  
  
“Have to keep the Key’s protector safe. Can’t break your promise.”  
  
A harsh breath escaped his throat, which somehow went unnoticed by the other two girls. “What do you know of that?”  
  
It was very easy to spot the moment his protective instincts for Dawn snapped into place. Kirsten realized her mistake immediately and she reached out a hand to forestall his movements. “Don’t worry. I’m not here to attack the Key. I’m here to . . .” She thought for a moment – _oh God, how the hell am I gonna cover this?_ – then continued, “Not help you, but to . . . I suppose the best way to put it would be to say, that I’m here to give you hope.”  
  
 _Okay, I’m so not lying here. That’s the real reason I came back._ Kirsten looked up in time to see the funniest expression she’d ever seen on her father’s face. His eyes were nearly bulging out of his skull and he clearly thought she was completely insane.  _Oh, well, I’m in for it now. I’m so dead when I get home. I bloody well hope it’s been worth it._ Nerves made her giggle and she barely got out the words between peels of laughter. “Relax Spike. I’m not a threat. I promise.”  
  
“Right, and how’m I supposed to trust that? Dunno who you are pet, nor why you’re here.”  
  
Distrust replaced the confusion on his face and Kirsten tried very hard to trample her amusement.  
  
“I’m here to give you some hope.”  
  
She knew he wasn’t buying her explanation, except she was so flustered, Kirsten couldn’t think of anything else to say. His next question only plucked her nerves harder. “What makes you think I need hope?”   
  
A nervous giggle softly escaped from her once more, and she raised her eyebrow, a wide smile crossing her features. Somehow, her hand had wrapped itself around his forearm, though Kirsten didn’t remember reaching out to touch him. The urge to throw herself into his arms and tell him the whole truth took all of her strength to fight. Kirsten looked up in time to see his gaze settle on Dawn and suddenly, she knew what to say. “My promise to William. I’m not here to hurt her.”  
  
Spike shook his head, denying her words. Kirsten’s voice lost all hint of amusement. “I’ll swear if you want me to.”  
  
Once more he met her gaze, searching for the truth she wanted him to find. Her small hand reached up to touch his cheek. It was the most she dared. “I swear . . . on the soul of her sister, I’m not here to hurt the Key.”   
  
She’d stunned him. Kirsten could clearly see that. It took long moments for him to compose himself, but when he finally did, his look had lost the wariness. “Why then d’you think I need hope?”  
  
Their voices had dropped down to a bare whisper, neither one of the wanting to be overheard by the other two. Before Kirsten could answer his first question, her father spoke again, “‘S not hope _I_ need, pet.” He looked over at Dawn, his features softening further and a sad look entered his eyes. “Well, I’m not the only one needing it.”  
  
Instead of answering his questions, Kirsten followed the direction of his gaze and said the first thing she could think of. “You are a good man, Spike.”  
  
He swung his eyes back down to her, disbelief shining through. “‘M not a man, pet, vampire here.”   
  
Kirsten shook her head in defiance. “Still a man. Still good. It’s why I’ve been sent here.”  
  
 _Oops. When am I gonna learn to keep my big mouth shut? Yeah, Kirsten, tell him who sent you. Gee, Daddy, I came back because Annie, you know? Annie, your other daughter, had a vision about some really bad things happening and well, I’ve been time-traveling for most of the last couple of days. . . is it the last couple of days? And the reason why I’m telling you all of this now, is because I’m so exhausted I can’t stop giggling like a ninny and I’m afraid I’m gonna blurt out something I shouldn’t and. . . Gah!_   
  
“I can’t tell you everything, so don’t get agitated with me.”  
  
She waited a beat, caught his imperceptible nod, then spoke, “I’m just here to give you a message and hope.” Once again he had that look on his face that said more about him disbelieving the idea that he needed hope, but he nodded, waiting for her to continue. “It’s gonna be okay, you know, despite what you think, and even, despite what you see.”  
  
Once more she waited, this time for the message to sink in. Kirsten stepped back away from him, then quelled her fear, retaking the step she had relinquished. “Please trust this. Trust that the Slayer would never hurt the Key, trust that she wouldn’t allow anything to harm her. And trust, William, in the trust that she had for you.”  
  
He didn’t speak, didn’t make any comment, just folded his arms over his chest, hooded eyes watching her intently. Kirsten couldn’t stand the silence, needed to say something before she spilled out everything, so she babbled the first thing that came to her mind, trying to sound like one of the many prophecies Giles and Wesley were always digging up. “Watch out for the red one, trust in the yellow. The Key needs protecting, and harm will come to her. The seer will dance with the devil beneath the stars and the souled one will be lost. One who was will return and will need you. You, and no other.”  
  
The memory of Dawn telling her about her mother’s return surfaced and Kirsten’s throat closed with barely suppressed tears. She knew – had seen for herself – how much her mother needed him, relied on him before disaster struck and she had to somehow tell her father that. Her voice dropped to a bare whisper. “Someday, William, she will tell you.”  
  
“Love, William, will come.”  
  
Her strength gave out and she slumped forward, and Spike caught her before her head hit the counter. It broke the cloak of silence around them as Dawn and Janice jumped to their feet. Both girls were talking over each other, while Spike lifted Kirsten into his arms. The last thing she heard before allowing everything to slip away was Janice’s voice asking, “Oh my god! What happened? Is she gonna be ok?”  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
  
Leaving a distracted Giles behind, Spike headed toward Revello Drive and home, where hopefully most of his family was gathered. His temper had dissipated along with the realization of Kirsten’s desperate actions. The fact she’d gone hurtling through time to save her family and head off almost certain disaster had tempered him somewhat, although he was still worried sick about her. Spike figured, though, the best thing he could do was be at home, waiting for her to return.  
  
When he got to the house, Connor’s black Range Rover was sitting in the driveway, and everyone was in an uproar. Robbie was out cold, his unconscious form on the couch, while Buffy hovered over him. Tara had William, trying to explain to Connor what was going on; her set of twins was piling weapons in the huge chest at the far end of the living room. Annie and Taryn were sitting on the stairs, both of them wide-eyed and watching the adults. His youngest daughter was the first to notice his arrival and she jumped up when he quietly shut the door behind him.  
  
“Daddy!”  
  
“Hey, there.” He picked her up, hugging her tightly before grabbing Taryn into a hug. “What’s goin’ on now?”  
  
“Robbie’s out cold.” Spike stepped into the living room, letting the girls drop down onto their own feet. Anne kept hold of his hand, giving him a recap of what had happened in his absence. “Kirsten must’ve changed something again.”  
  
She glanced up, to find her father’s very stern face staring back down at her. “Ooops?”  
  
Instead of addressing Anne’s comments, Spike called out to his other half. “Buffy.”   
  
At her distracted look up, Spike motioned toward Anne. “Seems Annie has somethin’ she needs to tell all of us.”  
  
Everyone’s attention turned to them and she hung back, hiding behind her father until he urged her forward. “No need to be afraid, Annie-bug, it’s only family.”  
  
Muttering, “That’s what scares me” under her breath, she stepped closer to the couch holding her older brother. “The first time Kirstie went back, me and Robbie passed out. This morning, I got really sleepy. I don’t know what happened to Rob. Just a little while ago I got this really sharp pain in my head.”  
  
Buffy pulled Anne into her arms, dropping a kiss on her forehead. “How’re you feeling now?”  
  
Curling closer into Buffy’s embrace, Anne grumbled, “Still hurts, Mommy.”  
  
“Still or is this a new one?” Spike’s voice was soft, concern belying the still stern look gracing his features.  
  
Anne whimpered, though no one was paying much attention, since Robbie started thrashing. His jerky movements knocked Buffy off the couch and both Connor and Spike dove forward to hold him still.  
  
“Watch his legs!”  
  
Connor grabbed hold of Robbie’s foot just before it connected with Anne’s head. Buffy scrambled out of the way, dragging her daughter with her. The combined strength of Connor and Spike finally got Robbie’s violent thrashing under control. Spike wrapped his arms around Robbie’s shoulders, while Connor had dived for his legs. Anne’s renewed whimpers were muffled by the fact her face was buried against Buffy’s neck and her arms were looped tightly around her shoulders.  
  
“It hurts again, Mommy.”  
  
“Ssshhh, baby, I’m right here.”  
  
Her parents shared a look over her head, though Connor was the one to finally break the tense silence. “Someone wanna clue me in?”  
  
Buffy blew out a breath, ruffling the curls on Anne’s head. She looked around, her eyes lighting on every one of them before she focused once again on Connor. He still looked the same, his frame only filling out slightly in the intervening years and despite the concern on his features she knew he would wait as long as it took for someone to answer him.  
  
“Seems like Kirstie got a message from someone,” Spike looked pointedly at his whimpering daughter, “An’ between them they decided somethin’ in the past needed fixin’.”  
  
“What?” He looked from one of his surrogate parents to the other, at first nothing short of confusion lighting his blue eyes. When neither of them flinched nor looked away from his gaze, Connor closed his eyes and concentrated, searching his memories for something that might explain this. Without opening his eyes, he spoke. “So Kirstie has the ability to move through time and Annie has the ability to see different futures? Am I getting this right?”  
  
“Pretty much.” Buffy was the one to answer him this time. “Near as we can figure, it had something to do . . .” She looked around, realizing who was around, then after a short but intense internal conversation with Spike, she continued, “With Dawn.”


	12. Time has been transformed

**_Twelve Time has been transformed_**  
  
  
 ** _This narrow isthmus ’twixt two boundless seas,_**  
 ** _The past, the future,—two eternities!_**  
 ** _Thomas Moore, Lalla Rookh. The Veiled Prophet of Khorassan._**  
  
 ** _For a man can lose neither the past nor the future;_**  
 ** _for how can one take from him that which is not his?_**  
 ** _Marcus Aurelius, Meditations. ii. 14._**  
  
 ** _Time has been transformed, and we have changed;_**  
 ** _it has advanced and set us in motion; it has unveiled its face,_**  
 ** _inspiring us with bewilderment and exhilaration._**  
 ** _Kahlil Gibran, "Children of Gods, Scions of Apes_**  
  
 ** _Time is not a line, but a series of now-points._**  
 ** _Taisen Deshimaru_**  
  
  
  
When she came to, Kirsten realized she needed to get out of there quickly, and head back to where she belonged, the right place and time. And since it was daylight, her father wouldn’t be able to follow her. Making an excuse about how she needed to go home, Kirsten stumbled to her feet. Twice she had to refuse assistance from Dawn, once accidentally mumbling something about her brother meeting her on his way home. Kirsten caught the slip, covering it up by mumbling some more, but within minutes of regaining consciousness she was out in the sunshine, heading straight for Restfield.   
  
As she suspected, the crypt was empty, though the signs of recent occupation were still there. The old refrigerator was still tucked away in the corner and she headed right for it, hoping there might be something edible there. An old bottle of water, thankfully unopened, was the lone offering, but Kirsten stole it gratefully. _I promise, Dad, I’ll replace it . . . later. At some point._  
  
Every muscle and bone protested her movement, though Kirsten ignored the pain to move into the ugly green chair dominating the room. Her body gave out and she curled into the musty-smelling piece of furniture. Tears of exhaustion and fatigue seeped from behind her closed eyes.  _I wanna go home. I just wanna go home. I don’t wanna be here anymore._  
  
 _I’m so tired._  
  
Kirsten succumbed to the fatigue, and the bottle slipped from her lax fingers, spilling onto the cold cement floor. Her body flickered, the edges of her form blurring into the ether and between one heartbeat and the next, Kirsten winked out, disappearing from the crypt.  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
"Do I really have to?"  
  
Annie looked from one parent to the other while sneaking looks at Connor.   
  
"Anne." Spike’s voice filled the suddenly quiet room, and she curled closer to her mother. "Pick your head up, poppet."  
  
Relieved to be hearing her father call her that, Annie lifted up her head. "Okay, Daddy."  
  
"Spill it all, now."  
  
There was no resisting her father when he looked at her like that, or had that tone in his voice. None of them even bothered trying, because he had a way of looking at them that had them spilling all their secrets. With one last look at her father, Annie started talking, hesitantly at first, then as no one interrupted her, she gained speed and her voice got stronger.  
  
At the end, they all stood there, staring at the small girl. All save Spike, who was staring at Buffy. Her eyes had gone dark green, no golden lights showing through, and he easily read the emotions swimming in her veins. Her hand threaded through Annie’s wild curls and she bowed her head, brushing a soft kiss on their youngest daughter’s brow.   
  
"Shit," Robbie groaned from his position on the couch, his body curling into a fetal position, while his attempted to stifle the tremors beginning to snake through his muscles. "I wish to hell she’d freaking stop this crap already."  
  
Whatever Spike had been about to say to Buffy died on his lips, concern for Robbie overtaking his need to make amends for something that hadn’t really happened. One look at the boy had him scooping him up in his arms. "He’s going into shock. Connor, get the shower goin’. Glinda, need something warm an’ sweet."  
  
Connor raced up the stairs, taking them three at a time, while everyone else scrambled to help Robbie.  
  
"Annie, you and Taryn go to your room and stay put." Buffy dumped the ten year old on the couch, following after the males. "Jake, get him something warm to wear."  
  
A thought struck her as she was racing down the hallway toward the bathroom. "Spike, Kirstie could be on her way back."  
  
"Fuck." He and Connor were working rapidly to strip off Robbie’s boots, then Connor stepped into the shower fully dressed, easily taking Robbie’s almost convulsing form in his arms. Spike adjusted the water temperature, pushing Robbie’s head up so he could make sure his eyes were open and he was still conscious. The action caused him to groan and weakly push Spike’s hands away. "Dunno where’s she’s gonna pop in, kitten. We need to get the troops moving. Rob. . . Robbie. . . where did your sister disappear from?"  
  
Something unintelligible, too low for even Spike to make out issued from Robbie and Spike tried again. "Rob. . . c’mon, boy, it’s your ol’ man talkin’, pay attention here. Where was your sister when you las’ saw her?"  
  
Again incoherent murmurs sounded in Robbie’s voice. Spike was done playing, he needed to know where his daughter would be likely to show again and he needed to know before she popped back in. He growled, doing it a second time when Robbie seemed to react. " _James Robert Summers Pratt, where the bloody hell is your sister?!_ "  
  
"Dunno." Robbie winched, brushing away the hands holding him steady. "Gone, Dad. She’s gone. Can’t feel her."  
  
Buffy gasped, meeting Connor’s eyes over Spike’s hunched shoulder. "Spike?"  
  
"She’s not gone, kitten, she’s not. I’d know it." Spike took hold of Robbie’s chin, forcing his son to meet his eyes. "Rob, focus. C’mon, sprog, listen t’your old man here. Where’s your sister gonna show?"  
  
"Crypt." Robbie’s eyes focused, blinking heavily to keep the water out of them. "Why’m I in the shower?"  
  
"Jus’ wakin’ you up." Spike glanced over his shoulder at Buffy. "Get Jake an’ go. I’ll meet you there in a tick."  
  
Connor spoke for the first time. "I’ll change as soon as I get him into bed. Tara and the girls can stay with him."  
  
"Right. Con? You’ve got your kit in the Rover, right?" Buffy was gathering up supplies from the hall closet, her attention still on the males in the bathroom. "Is it fully stocked?"  
  
"Yeah, it’s all ready to go. Don’t have any clean blankets in the back though. Might need a couple." He and Spike were helping Robbie out of the shower and methodically stripping him down. The shaking had stopped and his teeth were no longer chattering, but both men could see the boy wasn’t in good shape. "He needs to sleep."  
  
"I know. I’ve got ‘im, you go change." Spike hefted the naked teen over his shoulder and headed for his bedroom. He pushed Buffy ahead of him with a gentle hand at the small of her back. "Go, kitten, he’ll be fine. We need to worry about Kirsten now."  
  
They parted at the head of the stairs, no time to exchange more than a pointed look and Buffy was gone, calling for Jake as she ran down the steps.  
  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
  
Connor squelched down the hallway, passing the room Anne and Kirsten shared, listening to the two current occupants whisper and speculate. A smile crossed his features as Taryn broke into peals of laughter, obviously at something Annie said to distract her. He must have made some sort of noise, because both little girls appeared in the doorway, smiles wreathing their faces. Connor stopped, dripping onto the rug, staring at them. Annie made a face, wrinkling up her nose and Taryn giggled around her words, "You’re all wet."  
  
"Yeah, thanks. I noticed that. Would you mind getting my other pair of boots out of the Rover?"   
  
Upturned faces, innocent and sweet looked at him for a moment and then Anne blurted out, "What are you gonna give me if I do it?"  
  
"Annie." Connor shook his hair, sending droplets of water over the girls. When all she did was glare at him, he caved. "Fine. I’ll take you for ice cream. Later."  
  
"Okay." She bounded down the stairs, Taryn close on her heels.   
  
He watched them for a minute, idly noting the bouncing curls as Anne raced away from him. They were two very pretty little girls; Anne blond and blue-eyed, looking so much like her father it was startling, and Taryn with long straight strawberry blond hair and dark blue eyes, a beautiful blend of both her parents. _Gonna have a time watching those two when they’re a little bit older. ’m glad that’s not my job._  
  
With a shake of his head, Connor slipped into Robbie’s room, preparing to borrow some of his clothes. Robbie was in the bed, curled up into a ball, his eyes opened to bare slits. "How’re you feeling?"  
  
"Like shit." He groaned, pulling the blankets up around him. "I’ve been beaten by fyarls and countless vamps and didn’t feel this bad."  
  
Connor stripped off his shirt, using a discarded towel to dry himself off. "Did you know about this?"  
  
"Only the first trip. Didn’t know she was planning on going back until she’d already gone." Robbie tried straightening out his clenched muscles, only to find his legs cramping and spasming. "I gotta get up."  
  
"What?" Connor dropped his jeans, grabbing a dry pair from the floor. "Why?"  
  
"Leg cramps." He rolled to the edge of his bed, then stretched. "I’m gonna head back to the shower. I’m so freaking cold."  
  
"Don’t use up all the hot water, we’re gonna need to get Kirsten in there." Connor picked up the wet clothes, walking behind Robbie. "I’m heading out. Do you need anything?"  
  
"I’m good. Just need to get warm."  
  
Connor picked up all the wet clothes, holding them away from his body. "Tara’s making you something to eat. Might be a good idea."  
  
"Yeah, I’ll head downstairs in a little while." Robbie closed the shower curtain, trembling with fatigue and cold. "Go bring her home."  
  
"On it. Stay sane."  
  
Robbie chuckled, ducking his head under the water. "I’ll try."  
  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
  
Buffy raced through the streets of Sunnydale, Jake close on her heels. She could feel Spike’s worry fueling her own and she fought the waves of panic threatening to slow her steps. _Or_ , she thought, _it could be what’s been happening is just now catching up to me._  
  
Everything had shifted, in the course of the last few hours. Everything. All the animosity and anger she’d harbored for Spike was gone, disappearing into the atmosphere, along with whatever grief she’d felt. _Dawn is alive. . ._   
  
Dawn was alive and Kirsten had risked her own life to save a sister she hadn’t met. In a different world. Her mind was reeling, trying to make sense of what Annie had told them. All of it. Everything. Annie held the memories, while the rest of them just adjusted to the changes Kirsten’s intervention made, marking the alterations as they occurred.  
  
So now she and Jake were racing toward Spike’s old crypt, hoping that Kirsten was going to reappear there. Buffy didn’t understand how it all worked, how Kirsten was able to move through time, or how Annie was able to know things she shouldn’t. . . or how Robbie could practically move faster than the rest of them could see . . . or how strong Connor was. She couldn’t understand it or really explain it. But her children, every last one of them, was special.  
  
And she’d almost lost two of them.   
  
She stumbled to a halt, nearly running into the crypt door. Only her reflexes kept her from slamming into the hard wood, and Buffy let out an "Ooooff", pushing away from the mausoleum.  
  
Jake pulled up next to her, gasping for air. "Fast," he panted out, then grinned at her. "For an old lady."  
  
She grinned back, slapping the back of his head. "Funny, Jake. Really. I’m guffawing."  
  
Pushing open the iron door, Buffy headed into the crypt.  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
There was no sound, save the faint beating of her own heart. There was no light, only darkness surrounding her, encircling her.  
  
She was spinning, whirling in a vortex, unable to slow her movement.  
  
Kirsten curled in on herself, tucking her legs into her arms. Nausea rose in her throat. The noise might have been better, detracting her senses from the spinning, allowed her at least a pretense of knowing what direction she was headed.   
  
Curling into a ball didn’t help, but Kirsten was deathly afraid if she loosened the hold she had, the spinning would increase, spiraling too fast for her to control. She whimpered, the noise sounding like a shot in the darkness.  
  
Once the dam broke, the noise started, echoing against the blackness, shifting her perceptions further, until Kirsten couldn’t hold on. A loud scream erupted from her throat, as tears coursed down her cheeks.  
  
"Mooooommmmmyyyyyyyyyy!"  
  
Then everything stopped.  
  
Kirsten was falling, spinning, dropping faster and faster until she simply wasn’t.   
  
Her body slammed into something hard and solid, and she knew nothing more.  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
  
Spike had opted to wait for Connor, knowing he’d be right behind him, driving the Rover straight to the crypt. There was a back road into Restfield that took an almost direct route to his old haunt, through the oldest part of the cemetery and though barely more than a footpath in some spots, Spike knew the Rover would easily make it. However, right  now he was rethinking that decision. Not that Connor was driving cautiously, careening around corners and zigzagging between slower drivers.  
  
No. That wasn’t it at all. It was the slamming fist into his gut, doubling him over. Connor glanced at him, reaching out a hand to pull him upright. "Spike?"  
  
"Fuckin’ hell," he groaned, then sat up, his head leaned back. Panting for unnecessary air, he growled, "Don’t stop."  
  
"You all right?" Connor floored the gas, the big black vehicle shooting through a changing light.  
  
"Will be. Think Kirstie jus’ made it home."  
  
"Hold on." Connor wrestled the Rover onto the dirt track, barely missing the rusted gate. "Less than five minutes."  
  
The Rover shuddered to a halt, then both men were out, leaving the doors open. Spike leaped over the headstones, clearing them easily, while Connor raced around to the back, grabbing his emergency kit and the blanket they’d grabbed on the way out of the house.  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
  
Signs of the rituals the children had conducted were clear, sand and chalk lines on the cement floor, overturned candles and the faint traces of incense filled the crypt. Buffy moved cautiously inside, stepping around the signs of magic. She’d rather not disturb the remains, though, just in case it was the only thing anchoring Kirsten to this time. There was no way of knowing if this was the focal point for her daughter and Buffy didn’t want to take the chance of damaging it, if it was. Jake followed her lead, skirting around the markings on the ground floor, plopping himself on the sarcophagus. She leaned against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest.  
  
"Any idea how long this could be?"  
  
Jake shrugged his shoulders in answer, his forehead wrinkling in thought. "Probably not long, since Robbie woke up. That’s what happened before."  
  
"Okay. That’s good."  
  
They lapsed into silence, broken only by the tapping of Buffy’s small foot.  
  
It wasn’t long before the residual stench of whatever demon Spike had killed the day before reached Buffy’s noise. "Oh, my God, what the hell is that smell?"   
  
She gagged, moving toward the crypt door, intent on opening it up to the early night, in an effort to get some fresh air into the confined space.  
  
"Huh. Still pretty nasty." Jake angled away from the hole in the floor, but didn’t move from his spot. "Spike killed it."  
  
Buffy had just turned to say something to Jake over her shoulder when a loud thud and a groan of pain caught her attention. Whirling around, she nearly unbalanced when Spike crashed into the crypt behind her.   
  
"Oh God, _oh God._ "  
  
"Is she okay?"  
  
"Bloody hell." Spike nearly vaulted over Buffy’s hunched form, landing lightly on his feet on the opposite side of Kirsten. "Heart’s beating steadily."   
  
A sigh of relief escaped from Buffy. "She’s too cold. Where’s Connor?"  
  
"Right here." He spoke from over her head, then dropped the blanket down. "We should get her up off the floor."  
  
Tucking the blanket around Kirsten, Buffy eased up off her knees while Spike lifted their daughter from the floor. "Her teeth are chattering."  
  
"Can hear ‘em. Need to get her warm. She’s going into shock." Kirsten’s body shook, her fists flailing around, unintentionally avoiding their efforts to bundle her up. "Grab that hand, kitten."  
  
Working quickly, hands everywhere and together, they managed to get Kirsten bundled up. It was a trick getting her out of the crypt, until finally Spike just hefted her over his shoulder and motioned the others out. "Need to get her home. She’s shakin’ like a leaf."  
  
The ride home was much like the ride there, only this time, Spike and Buffy were in the back, Kirsten’s convulsing form sandwiched between them. Her teeth were chattering so badly, her jaw was clicking until Spike stuck his finger in her mouth. She clamped down, clenching so hard Spike was grateful he had no circulation. "Ow. Bleedin’ Jesus, girl’s got a bite on her."  
  
Buffy stifled a laugh, avoiding Spike’s eyes. She looked forward, catching Connor’s amused expression in the mirror and couldn’t hold the giggle. "She’s your daughter."   
  
"Funny. Really, sweetheart." More at his tone of voice than his actual words, the conscious occupants of the car erupted into laughter. That the laughter was tinged with relief, no one mentioned, not even Spike.  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
Robbie was standing in the doorway, grilled cheese sandwich in one hand, while the other held the door open. "How is she?"  
  
"Gotta get her into the shower. She’s shaking." Buffy moved past him, running up the steps, intent on heading to the bathroom. "You left some hot water, right?"  
  
"Yeah, should be enough." Connor and Jake hung back, letting Spike rush up the stairs with Kirsten slung over his shoulders.  
  
Buffy was already stripped down to her panties and bra, just turning on the taps when Spike shouldered his way into the bathroom. "Get her ready, Spike. The water’s nearly right."  
  
"On it." He was already unwrapping their daughter’s still form, stripping off her clothing efficiently. "She’s all blue."   
  
Memories of encountering her at different points in the past kept running through Spike’s mind, especially the one first time, when Buffy had been dead. Kirsten had to have made the other trips first, hopscotching through the past, all in an effort to save a sister she’d never met. The entire idea had him reeling, and he wondered, as he handed Kirsten off to her mother, whether Buffy was feeling the same. "Kitten?"  
  
She looked at him steadily, tears giving her eyes a hint of desperation. "She did it. I can’t believe. .  . Dawn called earlier. I never even. . . oh, my God, Spike, what Kirstie did."  
  
“I know. Can’t wrap m’brain around it. Chit has brass." A slow smile crossed his lips. "Gets it from her mother."  
  
"Oh, I don’t know. I think I know someone else who would do the impossible for people he loves." Spike eased closer to them, raising the temperature of the water, and holding them steady with the other arm.   
  
"Would do anythin’ for you, you know that." Uncaring of the water, he leaned and brushed a kissed across her brow. "I love you."  
  
Any comment Buffy would have made in response was lost in the low, rolling complaint of pain coming from their daughter. Her hand came up, fighting against the tight hold Buffy had around her midsection, scrabbling to get away from the water pulsing into her face. "Augh. _No. . . no. . ._ hurts, Mommy. Hurts."  
  
"I’m right here, sweetie, I’ve got you." Buffy ran her free hand over Kirsten’s trembling arm, cradling her closer. "Mommy’s right here."  
  
"Hurts. Wanna. . . hurts, Mommy." Kirsten’s voice was a harsh whisper, strained from overuse. The tremors worsened, and her arms twitched uncontrollably. " _Mommy!!_ "  
  
"Shhhh, baby, I’m here." Spike reached across, anchoring Kirsten’s trembling body to her mother’s and Buffy turned, angling their bodies so they could both be supported by Spike. "Daddy’s here too, baby."  
  
Something within Kirsten understood the words, and the hold she must have had on her emotions collapsed. Harsh sobs intermingled with the patter of water on tile and skin, and Kirsten slumped heavily, turning in her mother’s embrace, clutching at her desperately. Buffy eased down, rocking Kirsten, all the while softly crooning nonsense to her.  
  
Spike released them, sitting on the edge of the bathtub, watching them closely. He knew the second Kirsten slipped into sleep, her body unable to fight the effects of the trauma she’d put it through.  
  
"She’s sleepin, pet." Without waiting for her to say anything, he turned off the taps and grabbed the dry towels he’d spied earlier. "Lemme take her."  
  
Buffy brushed a kiss on Kirsten’s wet hair, holding her close for just a minute longer. "I don’t wanna let her go."  
  
"Yeah, I know." He started blotting some of the water from the two of them. "But she needs to be dry an’ warm. ‘Sides, I’ve got her."  
  
The wistful smile in his eyes caught her attention and Buffy opened her arms, helping Spike lift Kirsten into his arms. "I know you do." She climbed to her feet, stepping out of the tub. "I’m gonna get changed. I’ll meet you in her room."  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
  
They’d put Kirsten to bed, Buffy on one side, Spike on the other. He was, as always, closest to the door, guarding them both from any trouble. Buffy had long past given up trying to understand why he always slept closer to the door, though she figured it had more than a little bit to do with his wanting to protect them. It had been a habit he picked up while she was pregnant the first time, and he just never stopped.  
  
A soft smile crossed her features and she tightened her arm around Kirsten’s middle. She could barely make out the curve of Spike’s shoulder in the dark, though she knew he was there and that he wasn’t sleeping. Groping around, Buffy located his clenched hand, fisted in the blankets over Kirsten, and her fingers wound around his hand. He didn’t jump, merely uncurled his fist, his fingers entwining with hers.  
  
His voice was low, barely more than a whisper, soft so as to not disturb the exhausted teen sleeping between them. "She came to see me, while you were gone. Told me she was there to give me hope, so’s I wouldn’t give up. Told me about everythin’, only didn’t come out an’ say it clearly. Wouldn’t’ve believed her if she had. . . Truth would’ve sent me round the bend, ‘m sure." His thumb brushed over the back of her hand, making idle patterns. "She was somethin’ else. Couldn’t put m’finger on it, jus’ knew there was somethin’ different. . . From the first, she reminded me of you. Her laugh, way she scrunched up her nose. . . "  
  
He raised up on his elbow. His eyes rested on Kirsten, glowing golden in the darkness. "Thought I was dreamin’ when she appeared the second time. Fightin’ off those daft knights like she’d been doin’ it her whole life. Didn’t know how true that was."  
  
Kirsten stirred, but didn’t wake, responding to the sound of his voice. "We could’ve lost . . .” He paused, trying to get his emotions under control and almost failing. "M’m’ries of the other are fading. . All I know is nothin’ was right. Not between us. Kids were all messed up. . . Don’t want that to happen, ever."  
  
She wasn’t aware of her own tears until Spike disengaged their hands and reached across Kirsten to wipe them away. His hand was unusually warm, heated from the shower and cuddling with the two of them. Buffy reacted as she always did to his touch, nerve endings sparking with every contact. Her own hand covered his, holding his flesh against hers.  
  
"We won’t let it happen." Buffy paused, letting Spike’s fingers cross her lips. "Everyone’s safe, all of us."  
  
"Don’t wan’ to lose any of you, kitten. You’ve changed m’life." He felt her lips curl into a smile, then purse into a soft kiss as his fingers feathered over her skin.  
  
"I don’t know what I would have done without you, when I came back." Spike’s hand cupped the curve of her cheek and Buffy nuzzled into it. "Do you remember when they were born? How tiny they were? How . . . how scared we both were?"  
  
His low chuckle sounded in the dark, quiet room and his fingers threaded through her hair. "Yeah, I do. Was worried about all ‘f you." Spike grew quiet, then said in a very low voice, "Didn’t know who to trust. . . whether the wankers were gonna take you all away from me or whether the hall monitors were. . . "  
  
She reached across the slumbering form of their daughter, her hand this time searching out his face. "We made the right choice. And hey, we even got more out of the Council, so trusting them was of the good."  
  
"Least they weren’t looking to dust me an’ then take you."  
  
Silence fell between them, both lost in their own thoughts, until Buffy spoke again. "I was more angry with myself, I think. When the other happened, with Dawnie . . before the twins were born. I just took it out on you. I’m sorry for all the things that happened between us."  
  
"Wasn’t jus’ you, pet. Had a hand in all the badness. Left you, when I should’ve tried to stay, an’ work things out. . ." His turn to lay a soft kiss in her palm, his turn to bask in her touch.  
  
"It was both of us. Neither one of us was right or wrong. Promise me . . . promise me, we won’t let it happen again." Buffy’s voice faltered, tense with the need to make sure they didn’t repeat the mistakes Kirsten had defied time and reason to fix.  
  
"Promise, kitten. W’ everything I am."  
  
"That’s good enough for me. I promise too."  
  
This time, when they lapsed into silence, neither one felt the need to fill it.


	13. They say miracles are past

**_Thirteen They say miracles are past_**  
  
 ** _We shall not cease from exploration_**  
 ** _And the end of all our exploring_**  
 ** _Will be to arrive where we started_**  
 ** _And know the place for the first time._**  
 ** _T. S. Eliot, Little Gidding_**  
  
 ** _They say miracles are past._**  
 ** _All ’s Well that Ends Well. Act ii. Sc. 3._**  
  
 ** _Impossible situations can become possible miracles._**  
 ** _Robert H. Schuller_**  
  
 ** _Back of every creation, supporting it like an arch, is faith._**  
 ** _Enthusiasm is nothing: it comes and goes._**  
 ** _But if one believes, then miracles occur._**  
 ** _Henry Miller_**  
  
  
  
Time was a funny thing. Spike found his mind recalling the first time he’d ever stepped foot in this house – the one he now called home. It had been. . . he looked over at Buffy, sitting in the recliner with their youngest nursing at her breast and realized it had been over twenty years since he’d first stepped foot inside 1630 Revello Drive. _Twenty bloody years._  
  
Joyce had been alive then, and Dawn hadn’t.  
  
His other children were sitting on the couch, watching him pace. Their faces were grim, knowing they were about to get the lecture to end all lectures. . . and Spike suddenly found himself at a loss. He wasn’t really sure what to say to any of them. He wasn’t even sure that, given their circumstances and the knowledge they had uncovered, he wouldn’t have done exactly the same thing. There was one thing he was sure of, one thing in all his long years of existence; He would do anything to save the five people in the room with him. And a couple others.   
  
Spike would lay down his life for any one of them.  
  
The fact they had done the same had him reeling. Just before the twins were born, Spike gave up any pretense he’d once had about his state of evilness. Loving Buffy and being loved in return had opened up a world of possibilities he’d only dared dream about. The demon’s temper still rode him hard, the need – _the thirst_ – for blood and violence sometimes only just below the surface. But he’d learned to control it, learned discipline and temperance.  
  
Although right at this moment, he was sorely tempted to let the demon roar.  
  
Instead, his voice, when he finally found it, was soft and dangerous. "What the bleedin’ hell did you think . . . Or were you even _thinkin_ ’ at all?" When none of them dared answer, he kept speaking. "I get what you . . You’re jus’ really bloody lucky everythin’ worked out for the best, yeah?"  
  
When the twins shared a look over Annie’s head, he said, "Don’t start that shite, you damned well know it could’ve all turned out tits up."  
  
"Spike." Buffy caught his eye, then nodded her head toward Anne, whose eyes were as big as pitchers.   
  
A deep sigh wafted from him and he rolled his shoulders. He kept forgetting how young they were, and how colorful his language could get. "Forget I said that, Annie."  
  
"Daddy, you know I wouldn’t have. . . "  
  
Whatever Kirsten was about to say died when he whirled on her, his face set and closed off to any pleadings. "You don’t get to speak jus’ yet. ‘M not done."  
  
He withdrew a little, his arms folded over his chest, his eyes resting on each one of them in turn. "You took a huge chance with your life, with everyone’s lives an’ you didn’ even think twice about the consequences, did you? Magic always has consequences, an’ you kids should know better than to play with everyone’s fate like that."  
  
His voice dropped and he faced away from them, trying to compose himself. "You went back into dangerous situations, without knowin’ all the facts, without knowin’ what exactly you’d be facin’." Spike stared into Kirsten’s eyes, the muscles in his jaw twitching uncontrollably. "You tried takin’ on one ‘f the worst vampires you’re ever gonna face on your own. What the bloody hell were you thinkin’? Angelus very nearly killed you both that night!"  
  
"Daddy. . . " Kirsten stood up, defensive anger flaring in her eyes. "I wasn’t there by myself and I knew what happened, so I did know what I was getting into."  
  
"You _didn_ ’ know! You’ve never faced _anythin_ ’ like him! He would’ve ripped out your throats an’ laughed while he was doin’ it! You don’t know!"   
  
His face was red, anger defining his features, golden sparks firing in his eyes, but Kirsten didn’t back down. Father and daughter faced off, barely inches separating them, both masking their fear with anger. "He wouldn’a given a care who you were, jus’ . . . "  
  
"But he didn’t! He didn’t even get close!" Kirsten’s eyes were whirling, changing colors with the swirl of charged emotions, her expression just as set as Spike’s. "He didn’t get to Dawn, either! I didn’t make any mistakes, Dad!"  
  
"You took a stupid, foolish chance! An’ that wasn’t the only time!" His roar shook the windows, though Kirsten didn’t even flinch. "You went _back_ an’ did it again!"  
  
"I had to! She wasn’t safe yet!" Kirsten’s voice was as loud as Spike’s, their faces inches apart.   
  
"So you jus’ decided you were the only one who could do anythin’ about it? You took some bloody stupid chances!" He loomed over her small form, his nostrils flaring and jaw ticking madly. "You risked your life!"  
  
"Yeah, I did! I’d do it again! I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat!" Her breathing was erratic, her face as red as his. "She’s my sister! I’d do it for any of you!"  
  
The silence was profound, the only sounds heavy breathing from the two who’d just been screaming at each other. Anne had gotten up, moving away from the two of them, perching on the arm of the recliner and she looked down at her mother’s concerned face, whispering, "It’s a good thing Daddy’s heart doesn’t beat, coz his blood pressure would be really high."  
  
"Anne." Buffy shook her head, fighting the inappropriate smile her daughter’s comment raised.  
  
Before she could say anything else, another voice chimed in from the hallway. "She’s not wrong, you know."   
  
Everyone’s attention focused on the new arrival. "You guys are so loud, you didn’t even hear us come in. Hell, I could hear you loud and clear across the street."  
  
Hands on hips, long dark hair swirling around her shoulders, her head tilted to the side and a smirk on her lips, Dawn faced the rest of her family. "And you might wanna keep it down, coz, hey, got sleeping baby here."  
  
The instant Dawn’s voice sounded in the room, Spike knew he’d lost any control he might have had over the situation. Kirsten had whimpered, her eyes moving between her father and her older sister, unable to process the whole moment, then raced up the stairs to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.  
  
" ** _Fuck!_** " He picked up a pillow, throwing it against the wall. " _Bleedin_ ’ . . . God damned. . . "  
  
“Anne, go downstairs." Buffy struggled to her feet, handing William off to Robbie. "Take him upstairs to his crib, please?"  
  
Without a word, Robbie did as he was told, only nodding a hello to Dawn and her husband. Buffy walked over to Spike, talking quietly under her breath. "Go upstairs and talk to her. Talk, okay? No yelling anymore."  
  
Sparing a quick glance at Dawn, he sighed deeply. "This isn’t over."  
  
"I know that. But right now she needs to know you still love her." She wrapped a hand around his arm, tugging him back to her. "Punishment can come later, okay?"  
  
"All right. I’ll talk to her."  
  
He brushed a kiss on her forehead, then pulled Dawn’s hair as he walked by. "Hello, sweet bit."  
  
"Hey!" She grabbed the ends of her hair away from him. "Why does he always do that?"  
  
Buffy’s relieved grin brightened the room. "Because he’s Spike." She covered the few steps to where Dawn was standing, her arms open for a hug. "I’m so glad to see you, but I thought you weren’t coming until late tomorrow?"  
  
"Yeah, well, when you hung up on me so fast and never called me back, I got, um, concerned. So we decided to come up tonight."  
  
"Cool."  
  
"Hello, Buffy."  
  
Disengaging from her daughter, Buffy leaned around and smiled at her son-in-law. "Hey, Wes. How’s it going?"  
  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
  
Spike knocked briefly on the bedroom door, then, without waiting for an answer, slid it open. Kirsten was sitting on her bed, her back to him, and her slight form hunched over. She wasn’t lying down, instead her head was resting on her folded knees.   He could smell her tears. Could hear the cadence of her heart beating erratically in her chest.   
  
She didn’t move when he closed the door behind him, just sniffled loudly. Spike moved closer, coming around her bed to stand at the foot, just looking at her profile. From the side, she looked so much like all the other Summers women, the line of their jaws all following the same pattern. A long time ago, he figured that strong a trait had to mean something, and it struck him now what he was looking at. Stubborn belief in her actions, that she’d done the right thing, even against all evidence otherwise.  
  
A twisted smile fleetingly graced his lips, then Spike sobered at the thought of what her actions might have caused. "Kirstie-girl?"  
  
"Are you gonna yell at me some more?" She refused to look at him, refused even to wipe away the tears that were coursing down her cheeks.  
  
"No, ‘m not. Think ‘ve yelled enough for today." He leaned against the wall, settling next to the vanity that had once belonged to her mother. "Your mother. . . jus’ not gonna yell anymore. Doesn’t do me any good anyway."  
  
Kirsten looked at him then. "Wow, Dad, that was a good try."  
  
An involuntary laugh erupted from his chest. "Worth a shot, wasn’t it?" He shoved his hands into his pockets, tapping his foot absently. "Can’t guilt you brats into anything, can I?"  
  
"Kinda hard, since you always tell us guilt doesn’t do us any good." She shrugged then, looking away. "We listen, Dad."  
  
"Do you? Sometimes I wonder. Feels like ‘m talkin’ to the walls some days." Another bitter laugh echoed in the room. "Guess that’s how most parental types feel ‘bout their children. Thing is, most only have to worry ‘bout their kids doin’ everyday type stupid things. Me? I gotta worry tha’ my kids aren’t gonna wreak havoc dimensionally."  
  
With that she finally did turn to look at him. "Dad. . . "  
  
"No, lemme finish a bit here, yeah?" He took a step closer to her bed. "The things you lot can do . . . jus’ is hard to wrap m’ head around. An’ sometimes seems like every day it’s somethin’ new. Jus’ the last day or two alone, your mother an’ I learn what Annie’s capable of . . .an’ you?" He was shaking his head, trying to come to grips with all of this, and at the same time make her understand why he was so angry.  
  
"You take chances with your lives, an’ sometimes we’re the ones sendin’ you out there, I know. ‘S not what your mother would’ve wanted for you, but can’t change that." Spike wrapped his hands around the wrought iron posts of her bed.  
  
She was quiet, staring at the chipped polish on her toenails. "Daddy? Can I ask you something?"  
  
"Go ahead."  
  
"If you knew one of us was in danger, would you stop and think about consequences? Or would you just go ahead and do what had to be done?"   
  
_Damn smart kid_. . . "You know damn well what I’d do." He dropped his shoulders, letting his head hang down.  
  
"Right. You’d save us." She spread her hands, digging her toes into the soft mattress. "I did what I thought was right. I took chances, yeah. But Daddy? You taught me everything I needed to know going into this. I thought about the consequences. I _know_ how to fight." She snickered, looking up into his eyes. " _You_ taught me how to fight. You did."  
  
He conceded the point, merely nodding his head.   
  
"And, Daddy?"  
  
"Yeah, princess?"  
  
"You’re the best damn fighter I’ve ever seen." She wasn’t trying to curry favor with him, he could tell. He was surprised by her next words though. "I just wish I had been there to see you beat him."  
  
That comment elicited a real laugh. "Was a helluva fight, that one. But ‘m glad you weren’t there." Late morning sunlight filtered in through the window and Spike shifted automatically to avoid it. "Do you get why I was yellin’?"  
  
"Yeah, I do. Really not happy about it, but I get it." She looked at him with big eyes. "So how long am I grounded for?"  
  
"Least a couple of weeks. Have to talk it over with your mother. But don’t ‘xpect to be goin’ anywhere anytime soon, right?"  
  
Then she nodded, looking away from him. He clenched his fists, then gave up the fight. "Kirstie?"  
  
She looked up then, tears swimming in her changeable eyes. "Yeah?"  
  
"Don’t fret about it. We still love you." He smiled then, his eyes twinkling at her. "Jus’ try not to frighten years off m’life for a bit."  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
  
"Wanna tell me what the hell is going on around here?"  
  
Dawn was taking their stuff from Wesley’s hands, stacking it easily next to the fireplace. He’d already set up the Pack ‘n Play, then deposited their sleeping toddler inside the safety of the mesh. "I’ve never heard him yell so loudly, what’s going on?"  
  
Buffy was suddenly unsure how to handle this conversation. She didn’t expect to be confronted by Dawn’s questions and knowing Wesley as well as she did, his either. "Um. Kirsten . . . ah. . . how about we wait on this until Spike comes down?"  
  
The quirked eyebrow was the first indication that Dawn wasn’t going to be put off. The second was the way she held herself very still before she spoke. "What are you hiding?"  
  
Panicked hazel eyes darted from one of them to the other, her mouth opening and closely without any words emerging. "It’s a long story. . . how about we wait until you’re all settled?"  
  
"How about not?" Dawn grabbed Buffy’s arm as she took the baby’s bottle, fleeing for the safety of the kitchen. "Buffy?"  
  
"Dawn, can we please wait for Spike?" She wrenched her arm away, without much force, heading straight for the kitchen.   
  
Buffy held Vivien’s bottles, panting heavily, trying to avert a panic attack. She couldn’t even begin to try and. . . _Dawn was here. Alive._  
  
With Wesley . . . and their daughter.  
  
The sob she’d been holding back welled up in her throat, catching her unaware. She looked around, tears flowing easily from her eyes and she slumped, sliding down the refrigerator door. Her butt landed on the floor and whatever hold she’d managed to keep on her emotions for the last couple of hours crumbled. She hadn’t been ready to see Dawn. Twenty four hours ago, she’d been nothing more than a grief-filled memory. Buffy’s emotions reeled, rocketing from one thought to the next. From Annie’s spectacular vision, to Kirsten’s risk, to Dawn’s rescue. . . Buffy didn’t know which to focus on.  
  
Pounding feet thumped down the stairs and the next thing she knew, Spike was holding her against his chest, crooning soft nonsense words into her hair.   
  
"She’s _here_. . . Spike, she’s with us. And. . . and. . . " Buffy sobbed into his strong chest, her arms winding around his neck, holding him close. "Kirstie did it. . . she really. . . _Oh, Spike_."  
  
"I know she did. I know, baby." He rocked her back and forth, pulling her onto his lap. "It’s all right."  
  
Dawn stood in the doorway, watching them. She swayed a bit, knowledge of things she didn’t ever want to know flooding through her. Wesley’s arms circled her waist from behind and his body was a solid presence behind her. "You okay?"  
  
"I think so." She leaned her head on his shoulder, slow tears sliding down her face. "Just don’t let go for a while, okay?"  
  
"For as long as you need me to." He brushed a soft kiss against her temple, struggling with his own altered memories. "For as long as I can."  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
She figured being allowed to sit outside, alone, without anyone watching over her was the best she was going to get, especially today. Kirsten sighed, watching the sun start to dip under the trees. It was the first time all day she’d had time to herself. Someone was always hovering, watching her for signs of repercussions from her extended time travel. None of them believed her when she said she was fine, her father stating outright that he wasn’t buying her excuses, because he could hear how labored her heart was and how she was forcing herself to calm down.  
  
Sometimes she hated the fact he had a built-in lie detector. Other times, like now, she was secretly grateful. When William and Vivien had been put down for their afternoon naps, she’d been the one forced to watch over them. Her parents were devious. Vivien’s cries had woken up both her and baby Will.   
  
For the last half hour, she’d been on her own, sitting out on the back porch. Inside she could hear the sounds of dinner preparation; no doubt it was going to be something quick and easy, because that’s pretty much how they always ate, unless Tara did the cooking. _Suppose it could be worse; school and patrol. Don’t really hang out with anyone but Cee and Jake anyway. Six weeks, though. . . bleah._  
  
 _Yeah, but six week isn’t all that long. . . and I’d do it all over again, so no use complaining about it._ Spike’s voice rumbled through the kitchen, and though she couldn’t hear what he was saying, she knew it was about what happened. _Probably talking to Wes. . ._  
  
"Hey, kid."  
  
Kirsten looked over her shoulder, squinting up at her sister. "Hey."  
  
"I would ask how you are, but I already know the answer to that. Or I could, you know, make stupid small talk for a while before I get to the point." Dawn sat down beside her, legs folded up while her upper body leaned forward, her elbows resting on her thighs. "But that’s more Buffy’s style. So I’ll just jump right in, okay?"  
  
"Yeah. Sure." Kirsten braced herself for a conversation she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to be part of. "Go ahead."  
  
"That was some pretty crazy stuff you did. Moving through time. All I can do is open dimensional walls. Pretty cool to be able to go backwards or forwards."  
  
A shrug and a "Shyeah," were her only answers. When Kirsten didn’t say anything further, Dawn continued.  
  
"I get why they wigged though. Spike always shouts when he’s worried and scared. He gets angrier, too. But it’s a good kind of shouting. It’s easier than screaming _I love you, don’t do this_." She laughed a bit, then turned to face her younger sister. "I’m not gonna shout, or get angry. I just. . . thank you, Kirstie, for making it all better. For changing what you did."   
  
Her voice was clogged with unshed tears, but before Kirsten could say anything, Dawn was speaking again. "So if no one else says it, I am."  
  
She was quiet and then Kirsten confessed, "I didn’t do it at first because of you. I did it for all of us. But when I went back? And spent that whole day talking to you. . . do you remember it?" When Dawn nodded, she went on. "It changed after that. It. . . I wanted to save you, because you’re you. Because it wasn’t fair to you, what happened. So, I did."  
  
They were both crying and Dawn reached over to hug the smaller girl. "See, I got to do everything I wanted. Went away to college. Got married to the guy I’d been crushing on since I was your age. So really, I’m not so angry with what you did or how it started. I’m just really glad you did."  
  
Kirsten hugged her back, crying quietly into her shoulder. "Me, too. I’m really glad."  
  
With a smile and a tug on Buffy’s hair, Spike pulled her away from the door. "We’ve got good kids, you know."  
  
"I know, kitten." His smile was crooked, but real and he leaned down to kiss her forehead. "Your mum’d be proud."


	14. Epilogue

  
**_Epilogue_**  
  
 ** _Miracles, in the sense of phenomena we cannot explain,_**  
 ** _surround us on every hand: life itself is the miracle of miracles._**  
 ** _George Bernard Shaw_**  
  
  
  
"Mooommmmm! Annie’s wearing my shirt again!"   
  
Buffy rolled her eyes, wondering once more why she had so many children. Spike growled from the living room, warning the girls about keeping quiet. _William must be asleep then._ She headed for the stairs, hoping to forestall any further fighting between the two girls.  
  
"It was in my drawer!" Anne had on the shirt in question, and though Buffy privately thought it fit her better than Kirsten, she didn’t actually admit it out loud.  
  
"Take it off. Kirstie, you know the rule. If you don’t want anyone else wearing your clothes, make sure you do your own laundry."  
  
"Okay, Mom."   
  
Waiting patiently while the shirt exchange took place, Buffy heard the phone ring, and Spike answering it. "Annie, it’s nearly time for your lesson with Pop."  
  
"I was going, Mom, when Kirstie yelled at me about her stupid shirt." Anne stuck out her tongue, making faces as the older teen shoved the shirt into her drawer. "Looks better on me anyway."  
  
"Stop it." Spike’s voice broke into the beginnings of another round of bickering. "Annie, get ready."  
  
The look on his face had Buffy gaping at him. "Spike?"  
  
"Was Hawkins on the horn." At her look of surprise he moved closer into the room. "He and Jenner are . . . it’s Faith."  
  
"What? What about Faith?" Buffy blinked, her mind heading in a direction she didn’t want to follow. "Spike?"  
  
"She’s gone, kitten. They’re bringing her home."  
  
Buffy blinked, her eyes riveted on Spike’s bright blue gaze. "No. . Faith’s okay. I’d know. . ." Her head shook in denial and her eyes grew wide. "Spike?"  
  
He was shaking his head, reaching for her. Buffy wobbled a bit, moving away from him, sitting down heavily on one of the beds. "Sweetheart."  
  
"She can’t be gone. She can’t. I just. . . we just talked like two days ago. She. . . no, that’s not right." Tearful green eyes looked up at Spike as he stood before her. "Spike?"  
  
"She’s gone."  
  
He spoke over his shoulder, addressing their daughters. "Annie, your gaffer is waitin’ downstairs. Tell him . . . tell Giles to call everyone an’ we’ll meet you at the shop in a bit."  
  
When he saw her hesitate, he urged her onward, "Go’n Annie-bug."  
  
The pounding of Annie’s feet rushing down the stairs was the only noise in the house. Kirsten stared at her mother as the tears slid silently down her face. "She wasn’t even supposed to be fighting. What happened?"  
  
"Hawkins wasn’t too clear on the details, pet. Jus’ said she an’ Jenner had been fighin’ an’ she got in a snit, went off on her own." He crouched down in front of her, his hands reaching for hers. "We’ll know more soon as they arrive."  
  
"How soon? When are they getting here?" Buffy squeezed his fingers, then raised one hand to wipe away her tears. "How much time do we have?"  
  
"Couple hours. He called from the airport, jus’ as they were gettin’ ready to leave."  
  
"Daddy?" Kirsten’s voice startled them both and Spike nearly lost his balance when he twisted around to see her.   
  
"Yeah?" He could see something was bothering her. "What?"  
  
Kirsten was wringing her hands together in a gesture so reminiscent of her mother that Spike had to smile. "It’s okay, Kirstie, jus’ say it."  
  
"How come they’re bringing her here? I thought. . I thought she’d wanna be in England?" _With Jenner, someone who’d remember her always, keep her memory alive_ , is what Kirsten didn’t say.   
  
It was Buffy who answered her. "Because she wanted to be here, with family."  
  
Spike raise an eyebrow, turning to face Buffy. "She told you that?"  
  
"Last time she was here, we talked." She reached out to brush a hand over his cheek. "About a lot of things, that was just one of them. I guess she told Jenner also."  
  
"Right then. Let’s get moving. Go get your brother’s kit." Spike lithely sprung to his feet, pulling Buffy up behind him. "Need to talk to Giles an’ the others."  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
Sunnydale International Airport was little better than a hub in an out of Los Angeles and Mexico City, although for some odd reason it had monthly direct flights from Heathrow, New York and, of all places, Bristol. The purely human locals had no clue why those particular cities, though they never thought to question it. Demons didn’t bother. They knew why those particular cities and who was generally on those flights.  
  
Tonight, though, the flight from Bristol, which wasn’t normally scheduled for another ten days, was arriving just after nine. The flight had been hastily scheduled, just before sunrise in Bristol, without a full compliment of passengers, which in itself was unusual. What was even more unusual was the group waiting for the plane to land.  
  
Three ex-patriot British men, each accompanied by a very young-looking woman, and a passel of children all waited, watching as the plane taxied down the runway. The youngest looking male, who had the most children around him, held a very small infant in his arms, his voice softly rumbling. Spike rocked back on his heels, trying to keep William from getting agitated, knowing the baby was due for a feeding anytime he woke up. Buffy was standing at the large windows, her arms wrapped around her waist, while Kirsten and Robbie kept the smaller children occupied.  
  
"Buffy?" She turned to look up at Giles, who wrapped his arm across her shoulders. "Shouldn’t be long now."  
  
"How do you think he’s gonna be?"  
  
They both knew she was talking about Jenner. "I don’t know. I can’t imagine he’s going to be unaffected."  
  
A small ironic laugh escaped her lips. "He loved her, you know."  
  
"I suspected as much." Giles turned to listen to the quiet voices behind them, then refocused on the dark sky. "Did she return his feelings?"  
  
"She did. She. . . Faith just didn’t have a whole lot of trust." Buffy shrugged a little, dislodging Giles’ hold on her. "They weren’t like us. She couldn’t. . . "   
  
When her struggle for words became too much, Giles took pity on her. "I understand. Faith had a hard life, Buffy, long before she was Called. None of it was your fault, or even hers. I can’t imagine that she was able to trust anyone, including herself."  
  
They lapsed into silence, Buffy’s face averted so Giles wouldn’t see her tears.  
  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
Paulie, Jenner’s squirrelly minion, was the first off the plane and he hurriedly approached Spike, cutting quickly through everyone. Though this was merely a formality, Jenner was an old world vampire and protocol was everything. "Permission to enter your territory, sire?"  
  
"Granted." Spike was shaking his head, and he caught the inappropriate thought from Buffy as she nearly smiled at the image the two vampires made. "Paulie?"  
  
"Sir?" He turned around, the dark hair falling over his eyes momentarily blocking his view. "No formal titles, yeh?"  
  
"Right."  
  
He was gone in the next second, hurtling back through the jetway.   
  
Spike drifted over to the entrance, his eyes trained on the shadowed accordion hallway. He could feel the others assembling behind him, and Buffy’s hand on his arm had him stealing a glance down at her. "All right, love?"  
  
"I guess." He hadn’t really expected more of an answer and there wasn’t time for it anyway. Shadows moved in the jetway, low voices murmuring, the words indistinct, muffled.  
  
Jenner moved slowly, a hitch in his gait and his broad shoulders slumped over, like he’d taken a hard, heavy blow to the chest. Faith’s body was gently cradled in his arms, still and unmoving, as if she were sleeping. Buffy moved forward and Jenner stopped walking, staring down at Faith’s still body. A great sigh heaved outward and he swayed a bit, then recovered.   
  
He raised his eyes to stare at Buffy. Separated only by a few paces, she could see clearly the ravages of his grief. His face was lined, his eyes red-rimmed and watery, and Buffy quickly closed the distance, her hand cupping his cheek. "I’m so sorry."  
  
Jenner growled, unable to speak, sounding more like a mortally wounded bear than a vampire and Buffy laid her head on his shoulder, trying to wrap her arms around the bulk of his form.   
  
"Can’t." It was all he could do to force the word past his constricted throat. Tears slipped down his cheeks, falling on Faith’s corpse. "Dunno. . Buffy?"  
  
"I’m right here, Jenner. Right here." She patted his arm, pulling him forward. "Let’s get you home, okay?"  
  
He rumbled something again, and shook his head, though he allowed her to pull him forward. Spike, with William in his arms, fell into step beside them, only to pass the baby off to Kirsten as they walked by. "Take your brother."  
  
They walked him out the doors, right into Connor’s waiting Range Rover.   
  
Kirsten stood there, holding William, watching him. She didn’t move until she felt someone step up beside her. Thinking it was Robbie, she whispered, "I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so broken."  
  
"He’s been like this since we found her. Can’t get him to let go of her, even for a minute." Hawkins looked down at her and his unnecessary breath caught in his throat. _She’s adorable._  
  
"He really loved her." Kirsten finally looked up. He was tall, taller than her father and nearly as broad as Jenner. She caught herself staring up at him, open-mouthed. "What . . . what happened?"  
  
"I’m not sure. He found her. I think he was meant to find her." The vampire shrugged, then forced himself to look away. "Do you know where we’re supposed to be staying?"  
  
"Um. No. I think Jenner and Hawkins? Are staying with us." Her nose wrinkled a little bit and William started to fuss, his little fists and legs starting to twitch.  
  
"We are?" He looked at her again. "Who are you, pet?"  
  
"Oh. I’m sorry. I’m Kirsten, you know, Spike and Buffy’s daughter." She blushed, and he found himself wanting to make her do it again. "Who are you?"  
  
"I’m Hawkins." He grabbed Paulie as he hurried past, hauling the smaller vampire up by the shoulders. "Find out from the Watchers where the rest of you are staying. I’m gonna follow Jenner."  
  
Letting him go with a small push, Hawkins shook his head. "Not the sharpest one of the bunch." When Kirsten giggled softly, he found himself leaning down to be get closer. "How’re we supposed to get there, Kirstin?"  
  
"Kirstie. . . call me. . . Um." She got flustered, staring into his eyes. "Um. We can use Dad’s car. It has the car seat anyway. So yeah. Robbie!"   
  
Her brother turned, the little girl holding his hand swinging around to look at them also. The tiny blond looked so much like Spike, with curly blond hair and bright blue eyes that Hawkins blurted out, "Just how many of there are you?"  
  
She laughed and the sound caught him up short. "Just four of us. Serena over there is a Giles, and the others are sort of cousins."  
  
Hawkins was bewildered and visibly so. The last time he’d been so swept up in just looking at someone had been Glynnis, more than sixty years before this. And this little girl was nothing like her. Kirsten was blond, with eyes that saw right through him. Neither blue, nor green, they were just. . . Hawkins couldn’t imagine what she must think, this big vampire gawking at her like he’d never seen a female before. He shook himself, deciding then and there to just keep his distance. Or he’d do his damnedest to try.   
  
Kirsten was pointing out all of the family, telling Hawkins – _and why do I have to keep reminding myself he is a vampire?_ – everyone’s identity and who belonged to whom.   
  
When she caught him staring at her and not paying the least attention to anything she’d just said, Kirsten huffed out a breath and reintroduced her brother. "Rob? This is Hawkins. He and Jenner are supposed to stay with us, right?"  
  
"Yeah, that’s what Da said." Robbie sized up the vampire, noting the hardened muscles and slightly pale cast to his skin. He didn’t look like the rest, his natural darker coloring making him stand out less.   
  
The twins shared a glance and then Robbie shrugged, and loosened his hand from Annie’s. "I’m just gonna go get the DeSoto. Wait right here."  
  
He was gone in the next instant, leaving Hawkins to stare after him. Annie looked up at him, giggled and whispered loudly enough for everyone to hear, "You’re cute. How old are you?"  
  
Hawkins stared down at her, unable to believe she’d just boldly spoken like that. "Uh. Thanks. I’m old."  
  
Her nose scrunched up and for the first time, Hawkins saw her resemblance to her mother. "Yeah, I get that. But _how_ old?"  
  
Looking to Kirsten for some assistance, he caught her laughing at the two of them. If he’d been able to blush, he knew he would have been. As it was he could feel his temper surfacing and he just knew these two were laughing at him. Annie’s next words, however, had him reeling.  
  
"My da is nearly 150 years old. Are you his age?"  
  
"What? No. I’m not _that_ old." His response was out of his mouth before he could censor it, and he knew the second Kirsten stopped laughing.  
  
Annie looked him over, then shrugged, dismissing him from her thoughts. "Not too old then, huh?"  
  
Kirsten finally stepped in, admonishing her sister. "Annie, you’re being rude."  
  
A mulish look entered the little girl’s eyes and she set her shoulders, preparing for a battle. Some silent communication occurred, and Hawkins had the distinct impression the girls were talking about him, though he couldn’t figure out how or why. After a short period, Annie looked up and, with something close to contrition in her voice, she apologized.  
  
He nodded, unable to think of anything else to do. He was just about to say something else, when the older boy returned. "C’mon, let’s go. Everyone else is gone."  
  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
The car ride was short and uneventful, even with the three youngest bickering in the back. He sensed the bickering wasn’t normal, the subdued hushes and harsh whispers back and forth out of the ordinary.   
  
It wasn’t until they were back in the house that he felt at ease. The invitation to enter had been issued by the boy – whose name he discovered was Robbie – while he thought it would have been one of the girls.  
  
Jenner was sitting in the living room, Faith’s body cradled in his arms, while Buffy hovered over him, shooting glances at Spike. It was clear they’d been trying to get him to let her go and Jenner, like he’d been, was resisting all efforts. Hawkins stood in the hallway, his eyes on his sire, listening to the subdued byplay between the children. The infant was fussing, soft mewling cries breaking through the softer noises and Kirsten was pacing in the kitchen, trying vainly to keep him quiet.  
  
Spike was at his side, his gaze focused on the inert vampire sitting in his living room. "How long’s he been this way?"  
  
"Since we found her. He only moves when . . . he hasn’t fed or slept in two days." Hawkins glanced down at the older vampire, noting the clenched jaw and tight expression.  
  
"Can’t say as I blame ‘im. ‘D be worse off, ‘m thinkin’." His attention was caught by the increased wails from the kitchen and he shook off his mood. "Need to see ‘bout the nipper."  
  
He was gone in the next instant, followed rapidly by Buffy, who was obviously torn between seeing to Jenner and tending her baby.  
  
Alone now with his sire, Hawkins eased himself slowly into the living room. For the first time, Jenner looked away from Faith’s face, noting his surroundings. "Where . . . when did we get here?"  
  
"Just a bit ago." Sitting down in the chair across from the couch, Hawkins watched as the realization hit Jenner again. "You need to let her go."  
  
"Not yet."  
  
They lapsed into silence.  
  
  
@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
  
Sunshine broke through the shade trees in the backyard, dappling the ground with patches of light, making the grass look even greener. Hawkins stared at the patterns from his spot on the porch, enjoying the warmth and play of light. Glass globes of different colors hung from some of the branches, turning the grass wild and unreal colors. Gold, pink, red, blue, and purple flashed every time a stray shaft of light struck the orbs. The awning over his head blocked direct sunlight, keeping him safely in the shadows.  
  
He and the others had been in Sunnydale almost two full days, and this was the first opportunity he’d had to enjoy the daylight. They’d finally managed to get Jenner to relax, though it had taken a combination of drugs and exhaustion to do so. Spike had slipped him something in the blood they’d managed to talk him into drinking, and he was currently asleep in the basement room, with Faith’s body at his side.   
  
A decision would have to be made and soon.   
  
Faith needed to be put to rest and Jenner had to find a reason to go on.  
  
Purple light flashed across the backyard, drawing his attention away from his sire. This yard was the stuff of every childhood fantasy. A tree house was perched up in the branches of the biggest tree, a ladder leading up to the bottom level, while a small playhouse nestled in the very back, surrounded by an overgrown garden. He squinted, thinking he also saw the hull of a wooden boat, but then dismissed that.   
  
The light flared again and the door snicked open behind him. "You have about an hour before you can’t sit back here."  
  
Without turning, Hawkins knew who it was and wasn’t surprised at her presence. They kept circling around each other. A couple of times he’d felt eyes on him, watching, assessing and he’d caught her more than once. And although he tried, he couldn’t stop his own eyes from following her whenever she entered a room.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"You’re welcome." She sat down on the top step, her knees drawn up, back to him. "Is there anything you need?"  
  
An unbidden and unwelcome thought crossed his mind, but he held his tongue, knowing if he did reveal what he needed, he’d be booted out in a dustbag. Instead he murmured softly, "No, I’m fine."  
  
"Is it so different in England?" She seemed determined to draw him out and Hawkins found he couldn’t resist her.  
  
"A bit. Not as much sunshine. Places are older, you know? More area to . . . " He stopped talking, realizing at the last second he was about to admit how easier the hunting was, and how that wouldn’t go over well with the Slayer sitting on the steps.  
  
"For hunting?" She looked at him over her shoulder and Hawkins could see the laughter in her changeable eyes. Every time he looked at her, her eyes were a different color, sometimes green sometimes blue and sometimes something else altogether. "It’s okay, you can talk about it. We all know that’s what Daddy does." She shrugged, continuing, "He doesn’t really hide it."  
  
"Your father still hunts?" That news was a bit of a surprise, and Hawkins found himself leaning forward, eager to speak with her.  
  
"Sure does." Kirsten turned to face him, her knees still drawn up to her chest. "He goes out a lot with Connor and Wesley, when they’re on a job. There’s always evil humans."  
  
"And your mother’s okay with that?"  
  
Disbelief laced his tone and Kirsten reacted strongly. "Well, yeah. She knows he’s a vampire. Kinda hard not to."  
  
"That’s . . . " He stared at her, realizing he’d inadvertently insulted both her parents somehow. "I’m sorry. Didn’t mean it that way. Just seems hard to believe sometimes."  
  
"They love each other. A lot. Sometimes it’s embarrassing how much . . . and the way they act." She rolled her eyes, suppressing a giggle. "They get kinda mushy, ya know?"  
  
He didn’t, but he could see that it was cause for chagrin on the part of their children. About to respond, he was cut off when she continued speaking. "Sometimes, though, I see them and I wish. . . I think that’s the kind of love I want. Where the other person accepts who you are and doesn’t much care what everyone else thinks. But I know it doesn’t always work that way. Mom and Dad are special."  
  
Kirsten sighed, then asked him, "Have you ever been in love?"  
  
Her question took him by surprise and he answered without thinking. "I was, once. Ended badly and I don’t think she loved me the way I loved her."  
  
"Jenner . . . I can’t imagine how he feels." Kirsten sighed again, staring at him squarely in the face. "Was she human or another vamp?"  
  
"Those are kind of personal questions."  
  
"Sorry. I’m just curious. Dad says it’s not normal for a vamp to love a human, and that he and Jenner are the odd ones. But, the only vampires I know really well are Jenner and Lawson and my Dad. And they all love humans." It was clear to him she was struggling with something, trying to make sense of the relationships around her.  
  
"Jenner is an old vampire. So is your father." He paused, trying to understand the sudden epiphany he’d just had. He’d fallen in love with Glynnis before she was turned – so maybe it was something – "I don’t know. Could just be us."  
  
"So she was human?" Kirsten’s breath caught in her throat, watching the play of emotions across his face as he was thinking.  
  
"At first. Jenner turned her."   
  
She choked off some noise, and for the first time since they’d arrived, Hawkins took a good long look at her. Kirsten was petite, about an inch or so shorter than her mother, their coloring very much the same – same noses, same wide mouth – only their eyes were different. While he watched her, those eyes changed, morphing from a mossy green to a light emerald, blazing with inner lights. She was adorable and his heart contracted. Before he realized it, tears pooled in her eyes and without thinking, he leaned forward and wiped them away.  
  
"Why the tears?" His voice had dropped and he suddenly found himself crouched beside her, a hand on her arm.  
  
"Coz." She shook her head, looking away from him. "You’re gonna think I’m a baby. Or worse, a . . . Never mind."  
  
"Kirstie. . . Tell me."   
  
It was the first time the pet name dropped from his mouth and when Kirsten dared a glance, her heart in her eyes, Hawkins reeled as if she’d struck him.   
  
"No. I can’t." She took off, running out into the sunlight.   
  
Hawkins watched her go, realizing as she slipped away, that he’d just done it again.  
  
 _Fallen._


End file.
